Charlotte
by CrypticMoonFang
Summary: It only takes one event in someone's past to decide the course of their future. Two years following such an event with Leni, a mysterious character named Charlotte begins to replace Leni's disappearances. *WARNING: dark themes*
1. Chapter 1

-Chapter 1-

"Ugh!" their father shouted, stamping one foot on the ground.

He threw the remote on the couch and stood up.

"I would never let this happen to one of my girls!" he growled.

Their mother stood up as well and turned off the TV. She put a hand on her husband's shoulder to comfort him but it hardly seemed to help.

"Now, now, we've taught them enough."

"Maybe they need more lectures, just to be on the safe side."

At that exact and conveniently timed moment, their eldest daughter came down texting her boyfriend.

"Are you guys watching Dateline _again?_ " she sighed. "Dad, for the last time, none of us want to have a baby, none of us want sex, and I'm literally the only one who has a boyfriend. So stop worrying so much. And would it kill you to ditch that show already? It's making you way too paranoid."

Both parents sighed heavily as Lori walked past the living room and into the kitchen, having already gone back to texting said boyfriend.

A heavy guitar note rang throughout the house as their third oldest, Luna, "rocked" somewhere upstairs. It was followed by several more softer but nonetheless shrill notes.

Their fourth oldest and roommate of Luna's, Luan, broke out in sudden laughter, most likely at a terrible pun she'd just made.

And they had a pair of twins who tied for third youngest, although technically speaking Lana was older than Lola by two short minutes. They were polar opposites with Lana being a reptile-loving tomboy and Lola being a true girly pageant queen. Needless to say, they also shared the same room. And again needless to say, they were constantly fighting. Today was no exception.

Their youngest, Lily, was still a baby who had yet to talk beyond burbling and other baby noises.

Their second youngest and second oldest, Lisa and Leni, were at the library studying to get away from the never-ending noise of their house. Lisa wasn't a normal four-year-old and Leni wasn't a normal sixteen-year-old. Their intelligence levels based on age were the exact opposite of the other. Lisa was a child prodigy, making her the tutor of the family, and Leni lacked…higher intellect. Her knowledge in fashion and trends was really the only thing she could be counted on for. She did also know how to drive and even had her driver's license, but nobody trusted her with the directions to get somewhere and she could never figure out how to use or even understand the GPS her family had installed in the car for her. The only way she could learn how to get anywhere was to drive to the same place using the same roads a hundred times. So far, she could only make it to one gas station. The only reason her parents taught her that was in case something happened to Lori, who was the only other one who had a driver's license, and the kids had to evacuate the house. She had been instructed time and time again to go to that gas station and wait until her parents told her it was okay to come back.

What they didn't realize, or know, was that she wasn't as dumb as she made them believe. She was just…discouraged. For so many years she had been a slow learner, kept falling behind in class, and teased over her poor grades and general lack of comprehension. But as she grew so did her learning capabilities. She understood most of what the rest of the family was talking about, except Lisa who nobody understood what she was talking about. She passed every class but with the bare minimum so nobody would find out that yes, she was on par with Lori now and very much capable of getting the same grades. Normally she would tell somebody but then they wouldn't believe her. And if she proved it to them, they would think it was some trick or that somehow, it was rigged. Maybe pre-planned so it _seemed_ like she was smart. It hurt enough just knowing they would never believe in her, the last thing she needed was for them to think she would cheat or lie to them. So for now, or forever, she would just have to content herself with being known as the stereotypical blonde ditz who couldn't solve 2 + 2 but knew everything about fashion. In reality she probably did know everything about fashion though, and was definitely more interested in that than in academics. Even her dream job was a fashion designer.

But designing anything required some form of math, which happened to be her greatest weakness. It was why she was at the library with her younger sister. She had a test coming up. It wasn't a big test so she planned on failing it, but answering all the questions correctly in her head just to stay sharp. Her study session with Lisa was part of a larger plan to pass all the tests that her semester grades tended to hinge on, and flunk the rest. She really _was_ devoting her time to study and she really _was_ listening to Lisa. And while she did have trouble understanding some things—which were the topics she pressed Lisa to repeat many times—she caught most of what her sister was saying, including the words that were "too big for Leni". It probably annoyed her more than Lisa to ask her sister to rephrase almost _everything_. Lisa probably thought this was hopeless. Leni felt the overwhelming sense of boredom and had to put real effort into looking like she was still not getting it. On the upside, she had plenty of practice throughout her day-to-day life. On the downside, it was always a tiring façade.

"You can stay here and study," Lisa said, jumping down from her chair and closing a book.

She practically shoved the book into Leni's hands and left with, "I have to get back home before my chemicals overheat."

Leni could get back home on her own but _only_ if she walked. It gave her plenty of time to take in landmarks and the very few street names she could remember. At least…that's what her family thought. She wasn't as smart as Lisa and she was forgetful sometimes but she wasn't a complete idiot. However even she would admit that it was easier to just walk.

Leni watched her sister get in her mom's car and head home. The sun was down now, only the last remaining glow left behind. It, too, would soon disappear, and she would be walking in the dark unless she called someone to come get her. But after that agitated look on Lisa's face followed by her practically running out of the library, as if actually running away from _her_ …maybe going alone was better… She knew her act could get under people's skin and it definitely wasn't uncommon in her family. Leni the screwup. Leni the stupid. Leni the unreliable. Leni the disappointment... Maybe it was best if she kept that last thought to herself.

She did as Lisa instructed and occupied herself by studying even more for that upcoming math test. It was the same content she kept looking over, but she _wanted_ to learn this stuff and she _wanted_ to ace the test, even if it was only in her head. And there was only one way to do that.

She took a deep breath and noticed that the glow from outside was no longer orange. It was soft white coming from street lights. Her learning abilities may have grown but distractions were far from easy to ignore. It didn't come as a surprise, seeing so much time having already passed and so little studying—in comparison to that time—done.

She gathered her notes and books and tucked them away in her backpack. She sharpened her pencils and firmly held onto a few of them as she walked out the library door and into the quiet night. Alone. But! That was exactly what these pencils were for—protection. So recently sharpened and unused since then, they were like small daggers now, and while they wouldn't serve as any kind of immobilizing weapon, they could still stab someone deep if given enough force. That would give her enough time to run and hide, or run and call for help. Or, depending on how far she was from home, she could even have enough time to run right through the door, which was always kept unlocked until all family members were safely inside. Plus it wasn't like a few missing pencils would change her entire school life. She had more and even if she didn't she could always just borrow some from her siblings because…

Because she was Leni… Because it wouldn't be a shocker if she lost something… Because she couldn't tell left from right… So she had to be supervised and watched… Because she was Leni…

She waited patiently by one of the street light poles for traffic to stop so she could cross the road. There were ups and downs to being alone. She could be herself—the "smart" Leni—but only when she was alone. However she did heed the warnings of nighttime dangers…but only when she was alone.

She tapped her toe against the pole a few times and probably would've kept going until she imagined herself tapping to the beat of a song, but a young man who appeared to be around her age came barreling out of the bushes.

"Please!" he begged breathlessly. "Y-You have to help me, she's hurt!"

She recovered from the initial surprise and asked, "Who?"

The man grabbed her hand and tugged her forward, tears glazing his eyes. He obviously didn't notice the pencils, or didn't care about them if he did notice.

"Who's hurt?" she repeated as she gave in and ran alongside him to…to…well, to wherever he was going.

"My mother!"

"Your mother? Where is she?"

He tugged harder and it coaxed her to run even faster.

"Did you already call 911?" she asked.

Suddenly he stopped and she crashed into him.

"Okay," she said. "You just, um, take a couple of breaths, and I'll call 911, okay? Now where's your mom?"

She dug around in her purse and pulled out her phone but only managed to dial a "91" before something knocked her phone from her hands, sending it several feet away until it clattered against a tree root.

She looked in shock from her phone—now well out of her reach—to the young man standing before her. He didn't have the same worried, panicked expression he carried just moments ago. She wanted to give this unexpected behavior some reasonable explanation, like maybe a nervous tick or an accident… She wanted to go along with the nervous tick option since his mother was injured somewhere and from the sound of things, nobody had called an ambulance yet. And if she was in the hospital already, he would have no need to call upon anyone else for help, let alone the first stranger he saw standing under a street light.

"I'll just go get my phone back and call for help…" she said, turning to retrieve her phone that she hoped wasn't broken after hitting a tree.

He grabbed her wrist in one swift movement. "Wait!"

She looked at him and bit her lip at the new expression he wore. It had gone back to slightly panicked, but there was something that was just…off. It wasn't the way he talked, and while his actions were questionable it wasn't quite that either. It was something else, something she couldn't put her finger on.

"Yes?" she mumbled, and in doing so realized how far away they had gone…how fast he'd made her run, and now even he wouldn't take the initiative to do something for his ailing mother.

He cracked a sad smile that appealed to her humanity, and she automatically dismissed any negative thoughts about him.

"I just wanted to say…thank you," he said.

Without warning he pulled her into a gentle hug that she kindly returned.

"You're welcome. But we need to get to you mom—"

No sooner than she managed the word "mom" did he tighten his gentle hug into a seemingly aggressive embrace.

"Big hug," she squeaked uncomfortably.

Despite everything she tried not to believe, the reality of the situation was slowly becoming clear as her inner alarms began going off, telling her she was in danger. But there was still a chance she was misinterpreting this. He could be getting ready to cry for all she knew. His mom was hurt, he was sad, he needed a shoulder to lean on, he…he…he wasn't letting her go but surely there was some reason. Maybe…maybe he was just clingy? Maybe he was just a big fan of hugs? Maybe he was just really that thankful? Something. Anything.

"You can… We should probably…" She tried to pull away from him just a little bit, just enough to let him know that cuddle time was over.

When she didn't get the response she was expecting, she tried again, using more force this time. Still, it was almost as if she was fighting against a big rubber band—she kept snapping back to him.

"This is making me really uncomfortable," she admitted. "You know, physical contact, strangers, really long hugs, and you're not really letting me go so… Let me go now, please…"

"Can I ask you to do something for me before I let go?" he asked.

She couldn't imagine what he would want at a time like this but seeing as how he hadn't done anything to actually _hurt_ her, and since he was asking instead of doing, she nodded her head.

"Can you…" He dragged one hand down her side, making her shudder in response.

"NO!" she yelled, taking advantage of only one arm holding her and pushing back once more.

It did free her but it also confirmed her suspicions about him, something she hoped wouldn't happen. Somewhere in the back of her mind she kicked herself for ever believing that his "mom" needed "help". And worse, she _continued_ to believe it even when she knew it was a lie.

She turned heel to stomp half angrily, half offendedly towards the road, the only non-perverted place she could think of right now. Luck wasn't on her side though and before she could take three steps, the man tackled one of her legs, tripping her and bringing them both down with an audible _THUD!_ She heard him grunt behind her, pulling on her leg. It was now that the panic she'd kept under control before hit her full force and she turned onto her side to get a better view of him. Her free leg struck out at him, a high heel shoe making direct contact with his forehead. She pulled her leg back and this time aimed for his fingers wrapped tightly around her ankle. She only managed to get in one more kick before he removed one hand to grab her other ankle as well.

On instinct she tried to pull her legs up, away from him, but she only ended up pulling herself closer instead. By now she didn't have to have a train of thought to know there wasn't much she could do, not unless she could pry his hands off her, get up before him, and reach the street before he could catch her.

She continuously kicked both legs at once, as though _perhaps_ that had a chance of shaking him off, but either she was doing something wrong or he was doing something right because he made it seem all too easy to climb up to her waist and hold her there. She took it as an opportunity to get up and somehow jump out of his arms, manage to turn onto her stomach, and use her freed legs to help push her up off the ground. But it only took a second for him to do the same, and a second more for him to have them both standing again, this time with him doing the legwork.

He used both arms to hold her waist and keep her against his body while he pulled her backwards. She made it all the more difficult for him by leaning and "walking" forward so he would be forced to put in the extra effort, not unlike trying to connect the south end of one magnet to the south end of another.

"LET ME GO!" she screamed.

It seemed to startle him, hearing Leni, who had been so quiet with the exceptions of panting and strained moans, suddenly scream. He responded by balling one hand into a fist and delivering a powerful and painful blow to her stomach. She immediately curled up around his arms, as though he had hit some reflex. It also threw him off balance and before he could ground himself under the added weight, he fell to his side. And to his surprise, not only did she take him down—unintentionally he was sure—she also recovered much more quickly than ever could be expected and apparently decided that running, or trying to run, was no longer a valid escape option. She twisted just enough so that she could also land a hit, albeit only with the back of her fist, and more so with her wrist since her aim was so limited with her position.

"Let me go!" she growled angrily. This time, however, her voice was raspy and anyone who heard it would be able to tell that she was getting too tired to actually scream out again.

When she put her fist up a second time, he grabbed her wrist and held her there, one arm still wrapped around her. Finally he decided that enough was enough and this girl was giving him too much trouble to handle as quickly as he wanted. He somehow managed to get her free arm under the arm that clung to her waist. It forced her to twist back into her original position. By a greater power she was able to keep squirming anyway.

He stood back up and dragged her with him. She was still moving but her struggling was waning as she got weaker by the minute.

It was when he held a cloth over her nose and mouth that she began thrashing and shrieking out muffled words, a desperate attempt to escape the pungent, sickeningly sweet smell on the cloth. She made the mistake of shaking her head side to side as fast as possible to slip away from it, but her little plan backfired when he held her jaw to secure his cloth in place. She wasn't exactly a chemist like her sister Lisa, but she knew what chloroform was and she knew what it did. She stopped herself from breathing in the fumes.

She took both feet and swung them up, nearly throwing them back on the ground again—which she hoped would loosen his hold on that cloth and she could remain conscious long enough to have another chance at escape. It did thrust him backward but he didn't fall and his grip didn't loosen. She tried a different tactic, putting all her strength into her legs and _slamming_ her heels into his shins. He cried out in pain and stumbled a few steps back but still didn't fall down. She knew if that didn't work, neither would a second time. The only thing she could think of was kicking and screaming in hopes that a passerby would see or hear her, despite being too far away for that to be realistic _and_ despite how muffled her cries were.

Holding her breath only worked for so long before her body screamed for air and all that motion only sped things up. Her initial lack of energy before the chloroform certainly didn't serve her well either. She had no choice but to inhale a lungful of _wrong_. It felt so unnatural, so unreal, and she was helpless against it.

And even though she fought it as hard as any human possibly could, once she began breathing again, the chemicals took over in a matter of seconds. Her movements slowed down to soft twitches and her whole body was numbing, starting with her fingers and toes and spreading to the rest of her. In another few seconds she couldn't even move anymore and she knew that…that if the cloth wasn't…removed immediately…then…then she would…her vision…hearing…her voice…her conscience would fade…and then…

… _Nothing…_


	2. Chapter 2

-Chapter 2-

Suddenly Leni heard her name being called by an extremely familiar voice. Her head was on a girl's lap, her body on its back but her extremities sprawled out in all different directions. One arm was lying across her bare stomach, as though this girl or any other person had flipped her either her side or her front and onto her back. She also took little notice of it but she had absolutely no clothes on and was soaked in something red and wet. But everything was so vague right now that it was a possibility she was merely imagining it or even dreaming.

But the girl… She knew this girl from somewhere… Her hair was blonde—a slightly darker blonde than her own—and was cut a little above shoulder-length with bangs across her forehead, somewhat covering the top of her eyes. She recognized the girl's face and voice but couldn't actually tell who she was. It was almost like seeing a stranger who looked like someone she knew. She squinted and furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

"Leni," the girl kept saying. "You're going to be okay. Can you hear me? Leni?"

She could also understand the words spoken but for some reason, she just couldn't register them what the girl was saying. She could register her name but that was all.

"Leni, come on, speak to me, _please_ , Leni!"

The girl was crying uncontrollably. From what, or why, she didn't know. Maybe it was her fault? Or…no, that couldn't be the case. She hadn't done anything, as far as she could remember at least.

"Don't…tell Mom and Dad…" she said, her voice just barely above a whisper.

She didn't know exactly why she said it, or even what she said… For the life of her she couldn't say what was happening here, all this drama, all these tears being shed over something so insignificant she couldn't even make out what it could be.

She heard sirens blaring in the background, coming closer and closer. Red lights were flashing everywhere. For some reason there seemed to be a sense of urgency in the air.

"I called 911; you'll be okay, Leni," the girl said, followed by a sniffle.

The girl was…in obvious distress…but why…? She felt her mind try to shut down and fought back, trying to hang on to the thinnest thread of consciousness. But she couldn't do it. She was too weak, too tired.

"No, no, Leni, stay awake. Leni?"

Her eyes slid shut and everything went dark.

The girl, Leni's older sister Lori, gently shook her. It was useless. Leni had passed out again and… She couldn't help but feel a horrible guilt deep inside. Logically she knew none of this was her fault but emotionally she felt like it was entirely on her, because if she had just been with Leni…of all nights to leave her alone like this…! She could only imagine how confused Leni must've been when she was attacked, how scared she must've been… She probably tried to resist but obviously, she'd failed, and her failure resulted in evidence—she tried hard to keep her mind from concluding the full truth—of rape, battery, and as if that wasn't enough, three stabbings on her side.

This time Leni had likely fallen unconscious again due to blood loss. She looked like someone straight out of a horror film. Bruises were beginning to form on random places on her body, scratches big and small were everywhere, she had two busted lips which only contributed to the vast amounts of blood just _covering_ her body, and her hair was filthy and frazzled. Lori automatically assumed her sister had been hit so hard on the head that it knocked her unconscious, until finally Lori had come searching for her—Lisa informed her that Leni's last sighting was at the public library, and Leni herself, unbeknownst to Lisa, was a good way off to the side. Lori didn't have any unnaturally keen eyesight, but she did happen to notice an odd figure lying on an otherwise even ground. Although she kept telling herself and hoping that this figure was not her sister, she somehow just knew it was Leni.

Her impatient waiting paid off when two paramedics arrived to gently lift Leni onto a gurney and cover her with a blanket. Just seeing the sight of her younger sister being wheeled into the back of an ambulance was more than enough to terrify her, and she ran to her car, preparing to follow the ambulance back to the hospital. There, she knew Leni would be sent straight to the ER where nurses and doctors would hustle to fix her up, and Lori would be unable to do anything more than wait.

As she followed the ambulance, Leni's request echoed in her head. Of all people to _not_ tell, why their parents? They would definitely want to know if one of their children had been hospitalized, especially under these circumstances. Then again, she didn't know how Leni felt about all this. She would be waking up in a hospital, a different environment than before. Or maybe she just wanted to get over the shock of what happened first. For whatever reason, Lori mentally agreed that she wouldn't tell their parents, no matter how much she wanted to.

Once they reached the hospital, as expected, Leni was rushed into a medical bay and doctors and nurses weren't far behind. Lori was put on standby, filling out paperwork that she wished never existed. So what if Leni was— She didn't let herself continue with that, imagine what was happening to Leni right now, what they were doing to her. And it brought her to think about her siblings. Some were too young to understand this. And if Leni didn't want their parents to know, surely she didn't want their siblings to know either.

Lori sighed and turned in her completed paperwork to the front desk. She made her way outside for a quieter place to call her mother and father. They answered the phone and Lori instantly tried to use a calm and collected voice to hide any hints of concern.

"So I found Leni. She went to the mall to finish studying but fell asleep," Lori said. "She has a math test coming up so I think it's only fair to pull an all-nighter with her."

"Is Leni okay?" her mom asked through the speaker.

Lori nodded and answered, "She's fine, just a little tired. But she needs to study for that test. She can't keep failing these and if she doesn't study she'll never pass."

"And you're going to spend the whole night with her…?"

"Don't worry, Mom, I so got this. Besides, it's safer at the mall. They have security guards there. They don't have that at the library. They also have food, bathrooms, and drinks. Oh! Leni's working on a problem, I have to go now. I'll bring Leni home with at _least_ a D, promise."

Her mother sighed heavily and agreed to let her spend a fake all-night study session with Leni. She also agreed to tell their father about it and calm him down should he get mad or upset.

Lori hung up and flew back inside in hopes that she could see her sister now. But they "weren't ready" and she knew it would probably be a while before they were. But at least she had all night and all of tomorrow to be with her… Hopefully Leni would be discharged within that time frame. If not…well…she wasn't sure how to explain such an absence to her parents without telling them the truth—that their daughter had become a bloody, beaten mess. And then their siblings would wonder what was up because the parents would be devastated… There was simply _no way_ to hide or contain that kind of depression. Leni herself was a different story. She would definitely be emotional when she woke up, and would probably stay that way for a long time afterward.

And Lori didn't know how to handle that. She didn't know how she could cheer Leni up when she couldn't come close to relating to her sister's horror story. All she could do was offer support… That was it… Nothing else…

She pulled out her phone again and connected to the guest internet, opening her mobile internet browser and typing in the search bar "rape victims". In a split second a whole slew of articles, sites, videos, and images filled her screen. She scrolled past the videos—most looked like documentaries but the last thing she needed was to see some graphic clip of what may have happened to her own sister—and moved on to the article links. The answers she wanted were scrambled around. For instance she wasn't looking for "the meaning of" or "what is a". She also wasn't looking for an online dictionary describing what rape was.

She flicked her thumb to scroll back up to the search bar and types in something more specific. "Psychological effects of rape" had many sites, and unfortunately more videos and images, that _did_ give her the answers she was looking for. And as she read more about it, the more she wished she'd just…done something sooner. She should've just let her sisters study where she worked so she could keep an eye on them. Maybe if she'd done that, Leni would be safely at home right now, reading her magazines and talking on the phone. But instead…

"Lori Loud?" a voice called.

She jumped up and came to the front desk where a nurse was waiting for her.

"Is my sister okay? Is she awake? Can I see her now?"

The nurse motioned for her to follow as she moved through a long hallway.

"I'll let the doctor explain things to you," the nurse answered. "For now, she's asleep. She's on a morphine intravenous which means she can't feel any pain. But it also tends to make people sick so if she wakes up I'd stand back."

The woman opened a door to her left to reveal Leni sleeping quietly on a hospital bed, covered up with a white blanket. The top half was raised up to where it looked sort of like a chair with a very slanted back. She was hooked up to monitors, oxygen, and an I.V. A steady beeping sound could be heard from one of the monitors, giving the impression that it was in sync with Leni's heartbeat. And unlike before, this time she was dressed in a hospital gown. She looked pale though, and her hair was still messy. The blood had been cleaned off but some could still be seen through a few of the bandages on her body, most of which covered larger scratches on her. All the smaller scratches seemed to have been cleansed. Her lips were still busted but were no longer bleeding. As for the stab wounds…they remained hidden beneath the gown and blanket. She assumed they had been stitched and cleaned.

Lori took a seat beside her younger sister as the nurse shut the door and stared almost in disbelief. Even though every bit of proof was lying motionless right before her, it still seemed surreal. This was the kind of things that was supposed to be exaggerated by the media. It wasn't supposed to happen in real life, especially not to Leni. Not to say that it should happen to anyone else, but of her family, Leni had to be the most compassionate. And things like this shouldn't happen to people like Leni. But it did anyway…

There was a quick rapping on the door and a doctor stepped inside with his clipboard held beside him.

"Lori?" he said.

She nodded.

"I'm Dr. Bryant. I'm here to talk to you about your sister."

She nodded again, dread filling her.

Dr. Bryant pulled up a seat for himself and breathed out, lifting a few pages on his clipboard. "Leni's injuries are consistent with physical and sexual assault."

She already knew that but hearing it come from a professional made it all the worse, as though he wasn't just here to talk about Leni, but also to verify the terrible things that she _didn't_ want to believe… But…now that a doctor who had examined Leni was telling her this straight to her face…it was…it was so hard to take in…

"The injuries were originally found most alarming were the stab wounds on her side, but those appear to have been a rush job and they're not life-threatening. Her vital signs are looking well but we did notice high levels of chloroform in her system."

"What's chloroform?"

The doctor shifted in his chair, as though he was preparing himself for a longer talk than he initially thought.

"It used to be regarded as one of the first anesthetics but proved to be too dangerous to use medically anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"We think Leni put up too much of a fight. It's possible that her attacker couldn't wrestle her down so he used chloroform to knock her out. I would also venture to say that she didn't stay down the whole time. From what we can deduce, she woke up a few times, which would mean he kept using chloroform to keep her from regaining enough conscience to start fighting back again. It would explain why we found such a high dose in her."

"Will she be okay?"

Dr. Bryant shrugged. "She looks like she's doing well now but we're keeping her overnight to be on the safe side. You're welcome to stay if you like."

The doctor got up to leave and Lori's attention returned to her sister. In one way she was proud of Leni for fighting back so hard and not just giving up. But that also meant her attacker would've been using more and more force to try to overpower her. So in another way she was sad that Leni ever fought back, because in the end, despite all her best efforts, she still succumbed to him. It was like everything she did was meaningless.

She took Leni's hand and rubbed her thumb over it, thinking again of what she could've done to prevent this…this…this _atrocity_. Simply saying it was an "assault" almost seemed like they were trying to sugarcoat it. By definition, yes, it was, but that word just sounded too soft. There were a million other words that more accurately described this. But no, Dr. Bryant saw it as an "assault".

After many more minutes of agonizing over the situation, Leni's eyes finally fluttered open, but they were glazed over and it was clear that she was disoriented. Her eyes followed Lori but her expression remained blank.

And unbeknownst to Lori, her vision was blurry and her thoughts were somewhat scattered. Her memory wasn't much better—she could only make out her recognition of this same girl who had hovered above her earlier. Familiar yet bawling over nothing. And once again, even now, the girl kept repeating her name, yet never told her why. The girl was also holding her hand rather than keeping her head on her lap.

"Leni, do you know who I am?" the girl asked in a soft, motherly voice.

Like before, Leni was slow to let the words sink in. This time she was conscious long enough _for_ them to sink in, which wasn't the case before.

"Sort of," she confessed, her own voice weak and dry.

"Do you remember what happened?"

The word "remember" caught her attention. "We were outside a minute ago. You were there. Blood. Lights."

"Leni, that wasn't a minute ago, you've been asleep for a while now. You don't remember anything that happened before the lights?"

She paused for a moment. The library. She'd been at the library. Here were books. A little girl with short brown hair. The little girl left. It was night.

Her breathing and heart rate started to pick up.

Street light. Cars. Someone ran up to her.

"Leni, calm down."

But it was too late and her head was starting to clear. Her vision was better. She wasn't where she should be. Someone had moved her.

"Leni?"

There was a stranger. He was worried. He took her with him. Her phone. She tried to call 911 because his mother… It was bait.

She gripped the blanket. "Where am I?"

"Leni, calm down, you're safe now. This is a hospital."

The familiar girl from earlier, this was Lori. This was her older sister. She looked unharmed but a bit frightened.

"There's a bad man out th—" Lori put a finger to Leni's lips.

"I know. He's gone now. You'll be okay."

"Mom and Dad…"

"They don't know about any of this. They think we're studying all night at the mall," Lori told her. "Leni, I know this is a stupid question, but how are you feeling? The nurse said you're on a painkiller but I just want to be sure."

She took a deep breath and mentally scanned herself. There were definitely some discomforts but no pain.

"I probably look worse than I feel," she replied.

"It's not that bad," Lori assured her. "You just look…more, um….defined."

Leni turned her eyes to her feet and sighed, not quite sure how to feel about being seen by _multiple people_ in a humiliating position—unconscious, bloody, and stark naked on the ground. And what was worse, she had put herself in that position. Looking back, she had so many opportunities to get away but instead she bit the line and _chose_ to follow this complete stranger a good distance from the road, where everyone could see if he tried to do anything. And she never even asked where his mother was. She should've asked that. But no, she did nothing and now here she was, at a hospital, and here her sister was, worried sick.

"I'm sorry, Lori." A traitorous tear slipped loose and rolled down her cheek.

This prompted an immediate reaction from her older sister.

"No, you don't need to be sorry for anything. None of this is your fault."

She shook her head. "All I had to do was turn around and go back. I had a _million_ chances!"

"You didn't know any of this was going to happen."

"I should've seen it coming," she mumble-growled.

"Leni, you can't blame yourself. If anything you should blame us, we shouldn't have left you all alone at night."

No. She refused to blame her family for something she virtually asked for. She saw obvious signs but ignored them. She sensed danger but ignored that, too. And when she still had the chance and the energy to take that chance, she should've fought harder to kick him off. She could've even stayed put beside the road the whole time. She _allowed_ this to happen. Lori just…didn't seem to understand that.

Lori squeezed her hand and Leni put her head in the other one.

"I was supposed to go home tonight," she croaked. "I didn't want any of this to happen."

"No, Leni….nobody wanted this to happen," Lori gently said.

She couldn't restrain the tears any longer and they went full throttle cascading down her face. Yes, for the most part she'd been unconscious, but there were times when she woke up for a few brief moments. She had been dazed and confused but reflecting on it now, she knew what it felt like and she remembered that pain shooting through her body, like she was being torn in half. She had no emotions then, but she did now and it felt _awful_. Her mind was horrified and her body felt so slimy and gross. She wanted to take a shower, to scrub at least some of this off, even if it was the smallest amount, but she knew the hospital staff wouldn't allow it. Besides, she was already clean. It was just…the feeling of him touching her and being on top of her…

"Why did this happen?" she hiccupped.

She had woken up more than once and she did _nothing_! Why didn't she struggle, why didn't she fight? She could've at least called for help! But she did _nothing_.

"It was so painful…"

Lori leaned over the bed to embrace her sister, trying to fight back her own tears in an attempt to be strong for Leni. "I can't begin to imagine how awful it was…"

"It hurt so bad!" Leni cried.

Lori kissed the top of her sister's head and tried to wipe away the tears staining her cheeks, but every time one was gone, another replaced it. It was impossible to stop them, and it seemed like it was impossible to convince Leni that this whole thing wasn't her doing. She never _asked_ for this. She never _wanted_ this. Why she kept blaming herself, Lori didn't know.

"There are sick people out there who do evil things," Lori said, trying to make her voice as comforting as possible. "But you're safe now, and we'll get through this, okay?"

Lori's phone vibrated repeatedly and she checked it to see what could be so important that it took priority over her own, very much injured sister. Then again…she had made a promise keep Leni's condition a secret, and later on, to keep what happened to her a secret. The phone call was from Bobby, which came as no surprise.

She declined the call. Leni was more important…so physically damaged and emotionally torn… The sight of her was heartbreaking. Lori knew the feeling had to be twice as bad for Leni. To blame herself for something she had no control over…this was why Lori looked for answers—she had _no idea_ how to help Leni get through something this traumatic. She would be both mentally and physically scarred for the rest of her life, and might even continue to blame herself, to genuinely believe it was her fault…forever.


	3. Chapter 3

-Chapter 3-

Leni cried for hours that night before finally crying herself to sleep. Periodically, nurses would come to check on her. Aside from exhaustion, she was recovering nicely—nicely enough to be discharged the next afternoon. She was kindly given a set of clothes, taken off the painkiller, and had just enough time to get in the car before the effects started to wear off. Her original numbness faded away to be replaced by rapidly increasing levels of pain. By the time the two sisters pulled into the driveway, Leni was nearly crippled. Even the simplest of tasks, such as breathing, had become a struggle.

She leaned heavily on Lori to stay upright while she retrained herself from limping or falling to her knees. She took a quick rest before standing by herself and letting Lori open the door. Neither of them announced their arrival—Leni could barely breathe let alone shout—and Lori hurried her sister up the stairs. It took far longer than usual but thankfully their parents and other siblings weren't home from work or school yet. But they would be back soon and they couldn't see Leni right now, not with her looking like this. Lori told her she didn't look that bad but she looked _horrendous_. Definitely something worth questioning.

When the two did finally reach their shared room, Lori helped Leni onto her bed. She only covered her up from the waist down, that way her legs would stay warm and it wouldn't be as hard to get her back out of bed for food and bathroom breaks. She was in too much pain to sleep, but she also couldn't move. The best Lori could do was give her an ice pack. She expected it to go straight on the stab wounds but when Leni put it squarely on her stomach…Lori had to wonder how much more her sister had actually gone through… Her focus thus far had been on the stab wounds but now her concern widened in range and only grew stronger. She wanted to be comforted herself, she wanted to be told Leni was fine or wake up to find this was some sick nightmare. But Leni herself wouldn't tell her honestly that she was fine.

Beaten. Raped. Stabbed. Poisoned.

That was all to be kept secret from eleven other people who all lived here. And keeping it a secret from Lisa and her parents would be no easy task since she was so upset herself. She had to remind herself that Leni was going through something much worse right now, and would probably tell them when she was ready.

Leni tried to rest but it only had to be twenty or thirty minutes before the front door slammed open followed by the endless chattering of her nine other siblings. Even with her door closed, the noise still rang in her ears. Lori made no effort to calm them down to avoid suspicion, and never once mentioned Leni. With eleven kids, having one or two absent was easy to overlook for a long period of time. For now Leni could rest, as long as nobody said her name, but in time someone would notice that the family was one member short. Once that happened, the resting period would turn into a reclusive period. If she could stay in her room long enough to heal then once she could bear moving around on her own, with or without pain, she could return to her normal routine with minimal questioning. Then she could fully recover without anyone knowing anything.

The only problem was, in order to pull this off, she would require a _lot_ of help from Lori, and possibly another person. She wanted as absolutely few people as possible to know what happened last night. Even if she did want them to know, how exactly would one approach such a topic? Being straightforward with it didn't seem like a good idea. Waiting too late could be just as bad with a, "Why didn't you ever tell us?!" scenario, and she wasn't sure if she could handle someone being angry with her over this. Right now her siblings and parents were happily talking/shouting amongst themselves, and she couldn't just ruin that. She also didn't know how to ease into telling anyone anything. The only reason she was okay-ish with Lori knowing was because she was found and technically saved by her sister. Had Lori not come searching for her she probably would've died back there.

Even now Lori continued to help her. She was keeping her a secret as best she could, as promised. Lori could be selfish at times but when a family member was in need, Leni knew she would be there. She also knew she couldn't ask Lori to tell anyone for her. It could and probably would backfire, making her feel even more ashamed than she already was—she didn't even have the courage to tell her family face to face, and she doubted they would think highly of that.

For a very brief moment she considered a note or text, but dismissed that, too. It still wasn't face to face and a note/text actually sounded worse than having someone else deliver the news. And her parents seeing that? As if their daughter hadn't done enough already, getting herself into so much trouble, now she would just leave them a piece of paper.

…Explaining what? Even if she chose to leave a note/text, what would it say? That she followed some strange person away from the road, in the dark, which pretty much cloaked her? That she wouldn't fight hard enough to get away? That a _cloth_ was all it took to bring her down? And then, finally, the climax of her story, that even though she woke up _multiple times_ , she still didn't fight or run?

It was hard to be more disappointing than that. No matter what she did, her family—parents in particular—would hate it. Her father always lectured them, always talked about how he wanted his daughters to "stay pure", and she just…wasn't. If he knew, he would be so furious with her for ignoring him. Her mother likely wouldn't be much different. And her siblings—the ones old enough to understand, anyway—what would they think? Sure there was Lori but she also had a closer relationship with Lori. That said, the playing field wasn't as even as everyone thought.

Maybe she would think of something but for now, she had other battles. Keeping away from her family—minus Lori—and enduring agony on her side, stomach, and between her legs were priorities she only wished she could ignore. On the plus side, at least there were only two tasks. On the downside, they were both very hard.

She felt something wet slowly spreading on her side. She looked to find a red liquid begin to thicken more and more through the gauze wrapped around her abdomen, making it and her shirt soggy and uncomfortable. All the movement probably caused the wounds to reopen and start bleeding again, so much that the gauze couldn't soak it all up. As much as she wanted to yell for Lori, or try to anyway, she knew it would bring attention to herself. But she couldn't get out of bed… Moving around even more would only cause more bleeding and all things considered, she didn't need the extra blood loss. Come to think of it, she couldn't yell even if she tried… Her body didn't seem to like that idea. Even her breaths had become short and rapid.

She moved a hand to place over the gauze but her arm hit the bruise on her stomach and she cringed. And maybe it was for the best that she didn't touch it anyway… It would hurt beyond words if she put any pressure on it.

She could only wait for Lori to come back. During that time she tried to distract herself by listening or breathing, or trying to hone in on what her siblings were saying—she at least wanted to keep up with their lives. But it only worked for a few seconds before the intense, pulsing ache drew her focus and made the wait that much longer.

Finally Lori did return, apologizing for taking so long and explaining that Lynn had received an ankle injury playing soccer, and that everyone had become very absorbed by that so she had to as well. Leni could bear the thought of herself hurting more than Lynn hurting and wished she could go see her. Thankfully Lori also added that it was a minor injury. She never actually said what it was though.

"Anyway, how are you?" Lori asked after she was done with her story.

Leni glanced at the blood coming through the gauze and shirt and Lori followed her gaze.

Her sister jumped, as though ready to panic, but took a deep breath and said somewhat calmly, "I'll go get some things to help that. Stay right there."

Right. Because she was just bursting with energy. Setting aside sarcasm, she nodded her head and played the waiting game again. Their mother had a medicine cabinet in which many medical supplies were stored. It was downstairs in a little closet. It held a lot of bandages, gauze, rubbing alcohol, etc.

Lori returned with an armful of gauze, medical tape, and a red hand towel. She helped Leni sit up and take her shirt off. She slowly peeled off the gauze, exposing for the first time freshly opened, stitched, bleeding wounds. Two were parallel to each other going horizontally and the third looked more like a wide, diagonal slash starting from her lower ribs and ending just above her hip. It was the shallowest of the three but also the longest. She heard Lori gag at the sight.

"This might hurt, is that okay?" Lori asked.

Still not quite in the mood to talk, Leni simply nodded.

Her sister began wrapping her up again. It hurt even worse than when Lori was taking it off and she tried to choke down all the groans, hisses, and pained squeaks she wanted to make. She wanted to act fine for Lori but tears started to fall and her already-shallow breathing became irregular.

"I know, I know. I'm really sorry, Leni… I'm trying to be as gentle as I can," Lori apologized, as though she had anything to apologize for.

Leni shook her head and croaked, "It's okay."

But she saw a look of sorrow on her sister's face. Saying it was okay didn't mean anything when the pain had brought her to tears and Lori knew it.

"I'm sorry to make you do this," Leni added.

Lori shook her head as she folded the hand towel in half.

"You're not making me do anything," she said. "Now this might hurt a little more. I'm almost done though, I promise."

Lori pressed the hand towel against the wounds and Leni immediately grabbed her pillow. She buried her face into it to muffle the scream Lori was already halfway expecting.

Lori bit her lip and flinched.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" she frantically chanted.

Lori tried to finish quickly, using the medical tape to hold the towel in place while Leni kept her head in her pillow to cry silently.

"I'm all done now. The towel should help soak up any extra blood," Lori said after a minute.

Leni sniffled and lifted her head to peek at the towel. Her side started a whole new circle of pain—stinging, aching, stinging, aching, and so on and so forth.

"Do you want to keep sitting up or do you want to lay back down?" Lori asked her.

She wasn't partial to changing the position of her body right now. It would stretch her skin and in turn, cause more pain and potentially more bleeding.

"I'll just sit up for a while," she answered.

"Do you want anything to eat or drink?"

She shook her head.

"Okay. Then let me just…" Lori took her pillow and propped it up behind her. "There. In case you want to lean back."

She cracked a smile of gratitude. "Thanks, Lori."

"If you need anything, just send me a text, okay?"

Leni nodded and quietly watched her sister walk out of the room, sliding behind the door and leaving her alone in an empty room. Her breathing had evened out now that her wounds were all fixed up again. The pain was draining though, and she could feel it sapping her energy. Unlike before, she didn't really want to stay awake… The only things to fight now were pain and exhaustion, neither of which she could run from. Normally sleeping upright wasn't comfortable but in this case, she would be uncomfortable no matter how she slept. She could only _try_ to sleep.

But if she did sleep, it couldn't have been for very long.

"Knock knock," a voice called from outside her door.

She mustered nearly everything she had to sound completely awake and full of energy. "Who is it?"

"Kiwi." Luan.

She decided to play into it. "Kiwi who?"

"Come downstairs."

"Why?"

" _Kiwi_ want to see you!" Luan laughed. "And it's dinnertime."

"I'm—" She faltered for a moment. "I'm not hungry."

When no answer came, she assumed Luan had left upon indirectly telling her to come for dinner. Maybe if she could stay quiet, they wouldn't notice that she'd stayed in her room. And if they did, hopefully Lori would be able to cover for her, although she didn't quite see that being possible. Then again, Lori _did_ manage to cover everything so far… She chose to have a little faith in her sister despite the odds starting to stack against her.

She looked down at the towel to see if it had caught any new blood and wondered if there was a reason her sister chose a red one. Like, say, maybe to hide the blood…? Lori obviously didn't want to have to bear the sight of it. And it made sense, being as she was found severely injured with blood all over her body, and she couldn't imagine what the grass below her must've looked like. Seeing the stab wounds again _and_ more blood coming from them could cause Lori to have flashbacks of that horrifying scene.

Leni was thankful to not know what she'd looked like. She already saw—and felt—the aftermath. The last thing she wanted was to have yet another disturbing memory of…well, everything. Despite being vague blurs at some points, she still held those memories. Since they _were_ vague, hopefully one day she would forget them.

Just as she was about to doze off again, there came another knock on her door. She wasn't very willing to talk with so much pain but she really didn't have a choice… While it was true she could be overlooked in an absence, with twelve other people in the same residence, there were _bound_ to be a hundred conversations a day, even if they were short. Just because she needed to rest more than anything right now did not make her an exception, even with Lori.

If her breathing was normal she would've sighed _very_ heavily.

"Who is it?" she asked, though not without difficulty.

"It's Luna. Can I come in?"

"No!" she yelped. "I mean…I'm like, not feeling well. You might get sick."

Half of that was truthful but the lying part of it only made her feel guilty. Hiding herself in her room was one thing but lying to everyone was a different story.

"Oh. You want something to eat then?"

One of the unfortunate parts of talking to Luna was that she knew what rape was and the way she looked, it was pretty clear to her older siblings. That she was a girl automatically gave away what happened. Since Luna wasn't much younger than her anyway, Leni couldn't pass it off as a costume. She couldn't pass it off as anything but the truth…

"I'm not hungry," Leni answered. "You guys eat without me."

"Okay, sis. Hope you feel better soon. Call us if you need anything."

Luna or Luan would probably come back to check on her if Lori didn't, especially since Luna would be telling the rest of the family. …So it was kind of like…lying to the whole family… Or worse, making Luna lie for her…

She bit her lip and the guilt grew. Maybe she could tell them the truth one day. _Maybe._ She couldn't really see it happening right now but…

She shook the thought from her head and winced as the distraction wore off. Having Luna ask to come in her room had been a bit of a scare but at least it took her focus off the pain. Now that Luna was gone… Ow.

She tried to take slower, deeper breaths to see if somehow, that would ease the pain, even if it was just by a little. But just like the rest of her luck so far, it didn't work and actually made it worse. Covered or not, she could feel her skin stretching around the stab wounds and the stitches pulling to keep them closed. It seemed like even the slightest of movements would cause this kind of suffering. She resolved to stay as still as she could for as long as she could. And _hopefully_ , with her being so "sick", people would stay out of her room. Maybe as how she was doing and would be forced to speak, but other than that, she would be able to get some rest without constantly being interrupted by someone.

Eventually dinner was over and everyone began the nightly routine of more noisy, chaotic, Loud-style hustling and bustling. In a weird way it was calming and she wished she could join in. She wanted to be a part of her siblings' lives, if only at night.

In perfect timing, Lana's lizard Izzy wriggled under her door and scurried under the nightstand.

"Izzy!" Lana shouted. "Come back!"

"Don't come in!" she shouted back when she heard the doorknob start to turn.

The doorknob stopped moving and a different voice pushed Lana aside, mumbling something behind the door. It cracked open—

"No, like, don't come in!"

—and Lori slid through. Inwardly, she sighed deeply in relief.

Lori looked around for a bit before spying Izzy's scaly tail poking out from under the nightstand.

"Did you find him?" Lana asked from the other side.

Lori kneeled down and swiftly grabbed the lizard's tail. She stood up and dropped him in Lana's cupped hands.

"Make sure he stays _out_ of _my_ room, Lana!" she growled, probably more in defense of Leni than in the actual lizard situation.

"You got it, sis. Come on, Izzy…" Lana's voice faded into the background of electric guitars, laughter, and an unknown object repeatedly banging against a wall.

"Leni, how are you doing?" Lori asked.

Honestly…just being up this long was enough to wear her out. Then there was Luan and Luna to keep her from getting one moment's rest. And finally, right when she thought she was in the clear, Lana's little lizard picked her room—of all seven bedrooms upstairs—to come crawling into. _Obviously_ that drew Lana in like a moth to a flame.

Her answer was a humble shrug.


	4. Chapter 4

-Chapter 4-

The next few weeks was spent mostly in bed, with Lori sneaking food and drinks in when she could. The first excuse had been illness but that only worked for a couple of days before a new excuse had to be formed. Then another. Then another. Then another… There were probably more lies than she could count on both hands by now. At night the lies became all the more common because she needed to bathe at least every few days, otherwise she would become grungy and unpleasant to be around. Besides, there were…other reasons she needed to shower. No matter how squeaky clean she got, her skin always tingled with the feeling of rough hands and her face with the feeling of anything soaked in chloroform. She tried and tried but even with Lori's help, she could never wash off that evil sensation.

And the night terrors she suffered—and that poor Lori was forced to deal with—only made her feel disgusting when she woke up, which led to the pleading and more likely denial of another shower. Lori tried to compensate by giving her a damp, soapy wash cloth, but that never helped either. The only thing that was getting better was the pain. The stitches were dissolvable and, while most were still there, they were starting to drop off one by one. The cuts and scratches she'd sustained, most likely from falling on grass and hard ground so often, had healed up. The bruise on her stomach was going to be there for a pretty good amount of time and proudly flaunted a rainbow of colors to prove it. As for the stab wounds… They _had_ healed but only about halfway. She had more mobility than before but standing up for extended periods of time agitated the wounds and anything beyond walking slowly caused great pain. They probably would've healed much more by now but her body was dealing with a lot of damage and it slowed down the healing process, like waiting for a whole vat of molasses to completely drain out.

It was time for her to come out of her room now, for the first time in _weeks_. It was time for her to see her family, to talk to them, to mingle… It also meant pushing through things like physical contact, which would really hurt her side, but it was so worth it if it meant she could see her loved ones now that she was capable of it. And Lori agreed to let her out, too, so she had permission. The only catch was that she had to go straight back up to her room if anything started hurting too much, which meant Lori would be keeping a close eye on her facial expressions and body language. With a shooting pain, indications weren't exactly easy to hide.

The stairs creaked, which made her appearance less easy to hide as well. Her original plan was to come downstairs when everyone was calm and try to blend in, then having the family notice her one member at a time. Unfortunately, the house was _never_ calm and a crushing hug from Lynn was the first thing she received upon merely making it down the stairs. _IT HURT_ …but it was still worth it to see the people she'd been missing so much for so long.

"Sis, where've you been? We haven't seen you in forever!" And the rest of her siblings immediately took notice of her once Lynn asked that question, then she faced a barrage of voices yammering a million different things all at once. Apparently they missed her, too, and were showing it in a way she didn't even have a _chance_ to respond to. Not that she changed her mind about seeing all of them but this was overwhelming…

Lori saw her trapped in a circle of girls and Lincoln and tried to draw a little attention away from her by doing something, but she couldn't see what it was over Luna's head. Whatever it was, only Lana and Lily seemed interested. Everyone else hardly cared and among everything they were saying, she heard her name being chanted by individuals. It was an unwanted reminder of the blood, the flashing lights, seeing Lori cry, the lack of clarity, and everything else that went on that night.

She made the mistake of moving one leg back to keep balance among the crowd, but tripped over Lola and fell into Luan and Lucy.

"Looks like fall's coming early this year!" Luan laughed. "Get it?"

Thankfully Leni had lost a lot of weight over the past weeks so falling on pretty much anyone wouldn't hurt, at least not that bad. Lucy and Lola, however, were small and more likely to have been hurt.

"You okay, Leni?" Lynn asked as she helped her up.

Leni nodded. "I'm okay."

"You have to be careful about falling like that. I sprained my ankle that way."

She turned around to Luan and Lucy, who had already helped themselves up.

"Sorry for falling on you. Are you two alright?" she asked.

"We're fine," Lucy replied.

Lori pushed her way through and shoved everyone aside. "Okay, people, give her some space."

She sighed in relief and smiled at everyone.

"I missed you too," she said.

Once again, nobody held back on their thoughts.

"You've been in your room for _so long_." "We missed you!" "You've gotten thin." "Leni!" "Leni!" "Leni!" Leni, Leni, Leni, LeniLeniLeni! She loved her family but now she just wanted to get away. They didn't know—even Lori probably didn't know—how deeply the repetition of her name affected her. Under normal circumstances no one would mind, but to have those memories resurface with each "Leni" was nothing short of pure torture. If she was honest with herself, she wanted to flee from the very people who, just moments ago, she had longed to see again.

Everyone gradually allowed her to proceed into the living room. Sitting down on the couch was hard and unfortunately Lori couldn't help with so many other siblings around. And maybe it was better that way. If Lori saw her struggling to do something, even a little, she would be sent back upstairs to her room. More excuses. More lies.

More _resentment_. Her family she loved, and even the way they drowned her with poorly expressed affection she loved. She was even grateful to have them around. But gone were the thoughts of self-pity, replaced by pure hatred—not towards her family of course, but towards whoever cause her to isolate herself from them for all this time. She didn't know his name or really anything else about him, but she remembered his voice all too well. His taunting voice faking innocence and worry and using her own compassion to play her like a fiddle… She knew her compassion and good intentions were what most people loved about her prior to all that had happened lately, she took great pride in it. Now part of her saw it as nothing more than a hindrance, the real cause of her current pain.

And she didn't only see it reflect herself, but it opened her eyes to all the other girls who could suffer the same fate and be left with the same scars. Her whole perspective of men in general had changed drastically and now even her own brother was uncomfortable to be near. She didn't want any other girl to be able to say the same, to be able to admit to themselves that they had become a little scared of _family_ that hasn't hurt them and weren't responsible for what happened to them. Family was a support system, it was a web of connections and love, and despite knowing that, she didn't want to tolerate any man's—or Lincoln's—presence. It was a completely irrational feeling that she couldn't quite explain.

The repetition of her name started to die down at last, allowing for a much less tense atmosphere, at least on her end. However, that lasted for about five minutes before Lily started climbing on her. It would've been fine if it had just been her legs but Lily wanted to be held, which meant she was all over her stomach. It was unbelievably painful and she couldn't contain the shrill yelp that came with it. At most she could bite her lip, hold Lily out in front of her, and try to blink away the tears forming in her eyes. It left a glassy look that she hoped no one would notice, but the yelp attracted her siblings' attention. Seeing the gentle Leni thrust a baby off herself was strange enough, but then being on the verge of tears and biting her lips _as if in pain_ crossed Lori's red line.

Lori took Lily from her and handed the baby to Luna, who, along with all her other siblings, had a half shocked, half confused stare.

Leni was pulled up off the couch—at the expense of a tear that was potentially noticeable to the others—and taken back to her room by Lori. Unlike before, she was now free to roam about the room. It never lasted long though. Her energy still dropped too fast and catnaps were always frequent.

"I'll tell them something…" Lori sighed as she sat Leni on her bed.

"I'm sorry," Leni said. "I thought I could do it."

She put a hand softly over her stomach and winced when she felt her bruise. Lori looked at her for a moment before sighing again.

"Try to rest a little longer. You haven't healed enough to be…you know, socializing with so many people at once."

"But I—"

"No," Lori interrupted. "You're not ready to come out yet."

"I don't like resting anymore," she admitted.

"Then you can stay awake, but no coming out of this room unless I say you can."

Lori walked out of the room, shutting the door and once more enclosing her in a dimly lit space. She made herself more comfortable in bed and closed her eyes, already expecting the "night" terrors that didn't restrict themselves only to the night. She didn't want to sleep because of them but due to the restlessness of each nap or night, she was always tired and never able to stay awake for long periods of time. It slowed down the healing process as well but there was nothing she could do about it…

She slept for about two hours before Lori came back in and gently shook her awake.

"Mmmmm…?" she groaned.

"Leni, everyone wants you to come down for dinner. We're eating a little early tonight."

She blinked away the grogginess. "Why?"

Lori pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head.

"You'll find out soon enough…" Lori murmured. "But you won't like it…"

That last part was unnerving, but she tried to keep it at bay and slowly sat up.

Her sister held out a hand and asked, "Need help?"

As much as she wanted to decline the offer, flexibility around her abdomen was still restricted. Anything requiring the use of her abdominal muscles was painful and hard. She took Lori's hand and pulled herself up. The moment their hands parted, Lori pace-walked downstairs, motioning for Leni to follow.

Up until this point, everything had been routine. There were no surprises and every single change had been eased into. But this…this was startling, and by no means in a good way.

But whatever the case, she followed Lori downstairs. Trying to rush was too hard and she couldn't keep up with her sister's perfectly fast pace. Lori stopped to wait for her at the bottom, crossing her arms and nervously tapping one foot. It helped create an uneasy feeling and despite being halfway down and going, her movements slowed and she started to have second thoughts about coming out of her room again. But…she was already out here and it felt too late to turn back now… She just hoped this head-scratcher wasn't as unnerving as Lori was making it out to be.

It was when she reached the bottom that Lori stopped her from going into the dining room.

"Did you ever think it was weird that Mom and Dad never came to check on you even though you were in bed for _weeks?_ " Lori asked her.

She'd had too many distractions to really give it much thought but now that Lori mentioned it, it was a little strange… Their parents oftentimes gave them plenty of freedom but this was completely unlike them. Not once had they even come to the door. She assumed it was connected to some excuse Lori had told them but what was said that was powerful enough to keep her own parents from speaking to her?

"I guess so," she answered.

Her sister took a deep breath. "Well, they want to talk to you."

"About what…?"

Lori paused in thought for a second. "I don't know if you remember this but when I found you the night you were—"

She frowned and braced herself for the word she now hated most.

And Lori sensed it, "…hurt…"

Her frown went away and she exhaled.

"…you told me to keep it a secret."

She gasped. "Did you tell them?!"

Lori put her hands up in defense.

"N- I- I-It wasn't me…at first."

"WHAT?!"

Lori abruptly covered her mouth and hushed her. "Nobody else knows. The hospital called Mom when you were asleep. She called me and I told her we would talk after we could be alone. I told her what I knew and, well, she's known the whole time… I told her you didn't want anyone knowing so she agreed to help me keep it a secret. But now…she knows you were out earlier and wants to see you in person."

She immediately shook her head, knowing this "talk" would be one she wasn't ready to have yet—assuming she would ever be ready for it. It was a bad idea to willingly face her parents and see all that negativity directed completely toward her. No. Worse. _Feeling_ all that would be far worse than seeing it. Her skin crawled just thinking about it.

Lori raised an eyebrow. "This will probably be good for you. You haven't talked about it in literally forever."

She brushed Lori's hand off her mouth.

"I did!" she protested. "Once."

"That was at the hospital and it hardly counts as 'talking'," Lori said. "This isn't healthy, Leni. You've spent so much time all alone stuffed in our room. Now you can finally come out and talk to people. I mean…I don't really _want_ you out right now but Mom sort of, you know, overrules me."

She took a slow, deep breath. "I need more time."

Before she could even turn back around toward the stairs, her sister put both hands on her shoulders and looked her square in the eye, determination and concern burning brightly deep down, almost like a small fire that was too stubborn to be put out very easily.

"Please," Lori begged. "Please, Leni. If you won't do this for you, do it for me. _Please_. I can do a lot of things but watching you suffer isn't one of them."

She frowned and looked away.

"If I do this…will you be happy?" she asked, remembering the difficulty her sister had gone through to take care of her.

Lori smiled widely and puller her into a hug, thankfully still mindful of the extreme sensitivity of her stomach. It was all the answer she needed.

She pushed away and asked, "Where's Mom now?"

"She's in her bedroom waiting for you. And…we're not really eating early. I just said that to get you down here. It was Mom's idea."

"Will you like, come with me?"

She looked up with pleading eyes but Lori only looked to the side and shook her head.

"You _need_ this."

Leni took a breath and slowly walked away, trying to take her focus off the creeping fear by listening to Lori go on to chatter with their siblings—answering questions, getting into short conversations, jumping from one subject to another within seconds, and stopping one or two of them from leaving the kitchen. It sounded like there weren't all of them in there. The ones that were there were just hanging out talking. The ones that weren't, she assumed were outside playing. Lynn was most definitely outside. It was where she spent most of her free time—

She was already at her parents' room, inches from their door. She raised a hand to knock but froze for a moment. Lori said "parents" but only ever talked about their mother. Why was that? Didn't their father know too? She gulped. Or would she be forced to tell him herself?

On second thought maybe Lori could be happy lat— No, turning back now was still an option but if she did she would only be prolonging a period of deep fear… She didn't want to live like that, even if it was only for a while. Besides, her mom already knew. Maybe…maybe she would just happen to get tired again and… No, she just woke up… Act groggy? No, she'd already bee awake too long for that… Play dead? No, she'd healed too much for that… Deny everything? No, the hospital already tattled… Say it was a prank? No, Lori had been too upset for pranks…

There really wasn't anything she could do now. She couldn't think of any excuse that would get her out of this. So…she summoned as much courage as she could and ever so slightly knocked on the door just twice before suddenly deciding that was plenty enough to let Mom know there was someone at the door.

.000001 seconds passed, which she assumed meant her mom climbed out the window and went somewhere el—

"Come in."

Dangit.

She tentatively opened the door and let herself inside what she considered now a lion's den. It wasn't a dimly lit room of horror like she imagined it to be, with the curtains hardly cracked and pretty much all darkness descending upon this place aside from that single ray of hopeless light.

Her mother sat still on the bed with no expression on her face. Leni didn't exactly view that as a good thing…

"Leni…" her mom said, voice cracking just slightly.

She opened her mouth to speak but no words would come forth. They stubbornly buried themselves deep inside her like scared little children hiding from monsters in the closet. It was then that she realized just how horrible this conversation would be. She should've turned around when she had the chance but now she was trapped and there was no escape, just like before…

"Leni, why di—" Rita took a deep breath before continuing. "Why didn't you tell us?"

It was as she had predicted—she waited too late. Now she was facing the, "Why did you never tell us?!" scenario she had wanted so much to avoid. Upon reflection, maybe a piece of paper wasn't as bad an idea as she originally thought…

"Leni," her mother pressed.

"H-Hm?" was about all she could manage.

"Why didn't you tell us what happened?"

It wasn't what one would call a quick, simple shrug—more like a terrified, twitchy one—but her body wouldn't respond the way she told it to.

She somehow overcame the block in her throat that had kept her from speaking and answered, "I didn't—" The block came back and she swore she felt her heart skip several beats.

"Didn't what?"

"Want. You. To know," she robotically finished.

"But why? We're your _parents_."

"I-I know. I'm…I'm sorry." That was a bit of a lie but anything to minimize the impending punishment. "I went… You and Dad told us not to… I just…"

She pulled the side of her dress down more. It had become a regular habit, trying her best to hide the stab wounds even if they were already hidden. She didn't even like Lori seeing them even though they were hardly wounds at this point. The only reason Lori still saw them was because standing up for too long started to make the wounds and her stomach sore, so as embarrassing as it was, she still needed help taking showers.

Rita sighed and said, "Leni, if you need to _see_ someone—"

"No!" she shouted. "No."

The last thing she wanted or needed was to have _another_ stranger know what happened, let alone one who was paid to pretend to care about her life.

She pulled a lock of her hair around to her front and started gently pulling down on it, one hand after another.

"I went… I know you always said not to but I went off with a stranger…" she confessed, looming thought of a therapist finally giving her the motivation she needed to speak up about what she'd done.

"Leni…"

"I-I know. It was wrong. But he said his mom was hurt a-and I couldn't just ignore that so I went with him away from the road and I-I didn't…" She tried to blink away a few tears and tried even harder to numb herself to the memory. "I-It was a trap and I didn't realize it until it was too late and there was this cloth a-and I can't… I c-c…" She sniffled and the tears weren't letting her simply blink them away. They accumulated and stung her eyes. "The next thing I know there's Lori and lights and blood and suddenly I'm in a hospital and…a-and that's all I know… I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"

Rita gasped and rushed to hug her daughter. And although she didn't know it, she almost toppled Leni.

"No, sweetie, no, what are you sorry for? This isn't your fault."

Leni sniffled again and lost the fight between composure and tears.

"I didn't listen," she hiccuped. "I believed his lies. I didn't fight hard enough. I didn't get away."

Her mother ran a thumb over her cheek and kissed her forehead.

"You're still our baby girl, and we'll love you no matter what. Everything happens for a reason. I think that this will make you stronger, not weaker, not disappointing… Remember, there's a rainbow after a storm. You just can't see it yet."

 **A/N**

 **I probably won't do very many notes on this story. Hopefully this will be the only one, in fact. Anyway it was pointed out to me that I wrote the previous two chapters with a major medical flaw. If this seemed long and kind of draggy, it's because I patched that up. So my apologies if I didn't manage to correct it in a more or less entertaining way.**

 **On a side note, the reason it took me so long to update was because I had difficulty making amends. This story has a plan and only a few points are open for debate or leave any elbow room for lenience. So making this chapter as both a patch job and the conclusion to Leni's healing stage threw me off pretty bad and making adjustments to this led up to making adjustments to many other parts of the story. It had a bigger impact than I thought it would. So sorry about the wait but hopefully this is for the best and those changes will make the story awesome.**

 **Ah! Last thing before I go! In here it's suggested that their dad isn't here and/or doesn't know. Lori did say to talk to their parents but only Rita knew about Leni. The dad wasn't there at the time and he doesn't know because Leni wanted as few people as possible to know. Which, hopefully, will imply that none of the siblings know either. They don't. Just to clarify any questions about that.**

 **Okay, bye now! Hope you enjoyed it. :) Next update's on its way.**


	5. Chapter 5

-Chapter 5-

Leni took a deep breath as she wiped some dust off her father's unused Winchester 88. Before now, she never expected to be at the range, much less shooting in it. Granted, it was only a target, but the thought of a bullet… The bullet of a rifle no less…

She positioned her headphones and glasses and stepped into an empty stall. Not a single other woman was here and she hated it. Since it had been a little over a year now, her mother thought she was ready to go out on her own, be around men again. But here at the range was _still_ the only place she felt somewhat safe. Most other men had handguns. She had a hunting rifle—like a handgun but strong enough to take down a fully grown deer. It was the only reason she could keep totally calm and focused. But nothing, even after all that time, had changed the new caution she had around men.

She raised her—well, technically her dad let her use it since he didn't anymore, but it was still registered to him—rifle and closed the eye farthest from it. It had only been a month and a half of coming here just to shoot but she had gained enough experience and knowledge in that time to know exactly how to hit her target and where the bullet would go.

She pulled the trigger. _CRACK!_ The sound matched her name perfectly. A couple other rifles were there too, but they were more down at the end. She was in the middle. She didn't let the distinctive sound of the rifles from the end distract her from focusing on the second bullet. The first had hit the ring _right before the red dot_. If there was one thing she could never seem to do, it was hit the center of that taunting little red speck—hence the reason she knew exactly where the bullet would go…

She tried again. _CRACK!_ But she still couldn't hit that dot. She was always off for some reason. It always ended up somewhere above the dot, and never by much. The bullet holes always gathered around one area, always right above the center, and they were always so close to each other…but not a single one ever wanted to stand out and hit the red dot! Not one!

She growled at herself in frustration.

"You know," a soft—or rather, muffled, thanks to her headphones—voice said behind her, "if you keep your gun still, you'll get a bullseye."

She took off her headphones and glasses and looked over her shoulder. It was a woman in a dark, very professional suit. She wore no protection from the sounds of guns but did have in her hand a pair of headphones just like her own. Leni turned around completely and lowered the Winchester.

"I noticed you're having a little target problem," the woman said. "Preparing for hunting season are we? Little early for that."

She casually shrugged. "Not really hunting. Just, I guess like, extra practice?"

The woman nodded and took a quick glance at the gun.

"Winchester, model 88, chambered in .308. First produced in 1955 but still used for hunting today."

Immediately she was impressed. Although she had next to no knowledge about the gun she held at this very moment, this…this… What was she, exactly…? A gun connoisseur? Seller? Assembler? Maybe she worked at the range but had blended in too much to be seen?

"How do you know so much about this thing?" she asked.

The woman just chuckled lightheartedly and said, "Forget about that, I'm more interested in you."

"Wh—"

"You're letting that little beauty control you. If you want to get a bullseye, you need to stop letting your gun push up when you shoot. The bullet follows the barrel. If the barrel goes up so does the bullet. Try again."

She decided it was best to just stop talking. Obviously this woman knew a great deal about her father's gun—certain more than her at least. It only made sense that she would know how to help her shoot better with it. She reloaded the Winchester and put her protective gear back on.

She took another deep breath to help steady her focus and… _CRACK!_ It didn't hit the very center but it did hit the red dot—just barely off from the center of it. It was highly unusual for anyone to have perfect aim but in her eyes, this was the ultimate victory. A new milestone in aim. And to make things that much sweeter, she did it without a scope.

And her pride must've shown through because the woman patted her on the shoulder and pointed toward the target.

"You're almost there. Try again but focus only on the center this time, nothing else."

She nodded excitedly and pointed the barrel right at the center, using the aperture sight to line up the barrel directly with the very center of that target. Focusing only on the center of the center of the center, as though she'd created an entirely new set of rings inside the center of the preexisting rings, she took a deep breath to calm herself down a little. She tensed around the gun to hold it in place, pulled the trigger, and… _CRACK!_ In a split second the final bullet tore through the dead center of it all—including her own specially "bonus" target.

She threw off her protective gear and admired her accomplishment.

"That was amazing," the woman awed. "You handle that Winchester pretty well. Best shot I've seen in a _long_ time."

She smiled at the praise and lowered the rifle.

"Thanks. You really helped. I kept thinking something was wrong with the gun, I didn't know it was me," she said. "I might've even given up if I'd spent another month trying to make a shot just to fail at it."

A look of surprise came over the woman.

"Never give up! Do you have any idea what a gift you have here? You've only been shooting for a month and already you've made the perfect shot! Do you think you can do it a second time?"

She wasn't really sure if she could but her mind was open to the possibility now, and it seemed like a fun idea, testing the limits of her abilities. Maybe she _could_ make a shot like that again… All she did was keep the gun still and focus on the center of her "bonus" target.

She reloaded the rifle and aligned it with her bonus target's center. There was already a hole there so the center didn't have to be visualized, but she chose to do it anyway to make it a habit, if for no other reason. Once she had her eye on the center point… _CRACK!_ The second bullet went into the first bullet's hole. Which, in her eyes, meant she had made the shot again. It wasn't an exact matchup but it was so close it may as well have been considered the same.

"Think you can do it a third time?" the woman asked, almost in a challenging tone.

She spent hours shooting at the range that day. It wasn't abnormal for her to spend lengthy amounts of time away. In fact this was the kind of thing her mom wanted her doing the whole time—staying out of the house and going back into society again. Yes there was school but she never interacted with anyone but Lori and avoided any and all males.

She would simply come home later and nobody would think anything of it. Still, it would be nice to have targets right in the backyard… Maybe her mom didn't want it but she wanted to stay home, where she felt safest.

From small talk, she found out the woman's name was Terry. Her boyfriend called her Cherry. Her favorite color was yellow. She loved Asian food and rocky road ice cream. She wasn't a natural brunette. She was picky about her earrings and makeup. Contrary to first impressions she hated being in suits and preferred casual, comfortable clothing. There were a few weird things about Terry though… She was secretive about her job and came to the range daily with no intentions of so much as handling a gun. She expertly sidestepped the question of why she bothered to come if she wasn't going to do anything.

But by far the strangest thing…was a conversation they had about working with advanced rifles, in which Leni mentioned that no, she'd never even thought about it. Admittedly she'd been pretty content handling her dad's old Winchester… She didn't even know about "advanced" rifles. Maybe newer rifles but they were all relatively the same to her… Only difference she could find was how they were loaded. Other than that she hadn't paid much mind to it.

But apparently there were advanced rifles and jobs for those rifles. The jobs quickly became the main topic of that conversation. Or more like job _offers_. Her first thought upon such employment was the military—they used all kinds of guns, from tiny to massive. When that was denied, her second thought was law enforcement. It was questionable even to her being as she'd never seen a police officer carry anything larger than a handgun. But who was she to say they didn't?

"Yes and no," Terry replied. "This job does enforce the law but…"

"But…?"

"Well, not in the way you think. Let me ask you something. Have you ever been hurt by a criminal before?"

That all depended on what she meant by "hurt" and if rape was okay to fall under that—sometimes she just didn't want to believe it did, that she was actually fine now, and this was one of those times. It also depended on whether that man from so long ago was a criminal, at least at the time. So there was a bit of gray fog surrounding the question. Not much, but it was still there.

"Could you um…elaborate on that a little?" she asked.

"There are certain people at large all over the country. Statistically one in every ten girls are sexually assaulted—and these are just the stats for college girls. So imagine the rest of the girls out there, who aren't college students. Imagine the homeless girls, always 'fair game'. Girls alone, waiting for the bus. Girls helping someone find a fake lost puppy. Girls simply walking down the sidewalk minding their own business. Girls who never thought they would end up screaming for help that day."

Her eyes started to water at Terry's words.

"This… _reserved_ job is meant to stop the problem before it happens, to _save_ those girls, to spare them all that agony. And it requires the use of powerful long-range weapons and a skilled shooter."

"You mean like…like an…a-assassin?" she gasped.

"No, no, no. Not an assassin. An assassin senselessly kills anybody for money. Earlier you asked me about _my_ job. I represent an agency that, like I said, enforces the law, but in a different manner that uninformed citizens would find _against_ the law—they would think it was illegal, in other words, even though we're assigned by the government to do it. The reason I come to this place so often is because I'm supposed to scout and recruit able-bodied shooters from low key towns. I found promise in you," Terry explained.

She stroked the barrel of her dad's apparently not-advanced rifle and tried not to let any emotions get to her. Especially the ones in connection with…well, with what Terry said about all those girls. Like her.

"So…you want me to kill people…" she mumbled, almost in question.

Terry nodded and added, "Bad people."

"Why…wh-why can't the police handle this?"

"Call us a kind of special task force."

"But…I mean… I-I can understand if these people are serial killers or terrorists or something but they're not."

"Our targets range from dangerous to psychopathic. You're failing to understand what I'm offering you, Leni. Remember the girls I was talking about earlier? That night you became one of those girls, do you think that man deserves a couple years in prison so he can be let back out to prey on more girls _again_? So other girls can go what you went through? Prison is a slap on the wrist for crimes like that. But if you can do to just _one_ of these men what you did to that target in the range, imagine how many girls will be saved."

"How did you know about—"

"I told you, I represent a government agency," Terry interrupted. "When I thought you might be a good choice I—I won't lie to you—had to hack into your records to access necessary information. And…I'm truly sorry all that had to happen to you. That's another reason I would love to have you though. You of all people understand what it's like to go through that. You nearly _died_ that night. And the police didn't hear you when you were the one screaming for help."

The addition of that last sentence wasn't necessary but it did strike something deep inside her, as though Terry was proving everything she knew to be wrong. Maybe she _was_ wrong. Maybe this _was_ the kind of thing that elevated past ordinary police. Maybe…maybe…

"Even if I wanted to I don't think I can… I'm a high school senior now, I have college to think about and I come from a really big family so I'll need to pull myself together, get a job, save up money, hope to get any scholarships I can… And I highly doubt this old hunting rifle will do anything but hit a range target for the rest of its…uh, probably short life. It was my grandfather's before it was my father's so it's seen better days."

Terry nodded. "I should probably explain a few other parts of this job. It can be hard to do, we get that, which is why if you accept, you'll be paid large sums of money. More than enough for college, in fact. Furthermore, I would like to add that we'll provide you with a very powerful new weapon, a scope, a biped, a case, and several rounds of ammunition. Since you're only used to working with a rather worn down Winchester 88, you'll be put through plenty of practice—all at no expense to you. But once you finish training, you'll be expected to use your new gun for what it was always intended for."

She looked down at her dad's rifle and bit her lip. She'd managed to make so many amazing shots in the time she'd been at the range today, almost every time in fact, but she'd only done it for a woman who was now asking her to go around killing people.

"C-Can I have a little time to think about this first?" she asked.

Terry smiled and pulled out a business card from her pocket, handing it to her.

"Use this number to contact me."

After that talk she and Terry went their separate ways. Leni called her mom to come pick her up and Terry went off to…wherever.

The ride home was strange… She could feel the Winchester in her lap, as always, but this time it felt different somehow. More sinister. More dangerous. She tried to hide how shaken she was from her mother. It appeared to work and Rita took no notice of any odd behavior. But inside, a war between morals was brewing. It was true that prison would never be enough for the criminals Terry spoke of, and psychopaths? Well they could get off pretty easy just by pleading mentally ill. And maybe they were, but…was it really okay to kill these people? Was it really okay to take a human life, even if it was that of a horrible person? If she said yes, then that would be exactly what she would be doing. If she said no, then so many innocent girls would be completely and thoroughly _ravaged_ …or worse. She wanted to help but she wasn't even sure if she could _do_ this. She had always been told—and now told herself—to stay away from unknown men but now she was being asked to go directly at them… Could she really handle that after what she'd finally recovered from…? More so, could she…really kill someone…?

Her mother parked Vanzilla in the driveway and she flew past everything and everyone without a single word. She locked herself in her room, Winchester still in hand. It had taken a while to get used to but now everyone was fine seeing her holding a rifle—as long as it wasn't loaded—in the house. She had strong tendencies to stash it away in her room, in various places, and her dad never had any problem with it. The nearer she was to that gun the safer she felt. Her mom and Lori seemed to fully understand why. But…upon being asked to _murder people_ , she didn't know why anymore…

But, would it really be counted as murder…?

She sat on the edge of her bed and kept the Winchester in her lap, clutching it tightly with both hands and rocking herself a little bit.

It couldn't be murder. Right? Because the death penalty was still existent in the US. That meant criminals could be sentenced to death by law. So…maybe legal murder? No, no, couldn't be. Murder was always considered a crime. Always. And since when did a court sentence become a crime? They didn't pass crimes as a punishment for another crime. It just didn't happen! But then, did that mean she would be a special kind of police officer? Terry said it was above and beyond the police so perhaps not. She also said it wasn't assassination, so she wouldn't be an assassin. And needless to say, the very woman who represented the agency would know the difference between murderers, assassins, etc. So if it wasn't assassination what was it? Would she be carrying out a premeditated death sentence? The government gave them that assignment… So maybe that was just it, maybe it really was carrying out a sentence.

But did that make it right to do so? She wasn't officially part of the government or the agency. But…if she accepted the offer, she would be… Still, was it really the right thing to do? This wasn't like stealing or speeding, Terry was asking her to _kill someone_. To _take a human life_. That was just plain wrong…

Right…?

Suddenly the doorknob rattled. With a moral debate going on inside her, she wasn't what one would call "eager" to have some conversation. She didn't want to risk being swayed one way or the other and make any rash decisions in the heat of the moment. If it was something like gossip about a rude male or boyfriend/crush troubles, it would make her lean towards accepting the offer. But if she was wrong and it was only going to be simple chit chat, then her opinion would remain even on both sides. For now. She had to make up her mind eventually, she just…wanted to make the right choice.

She set the rifle aside, got up, and unlocked the door for Lori to come stomping inside.

The gun wasn't hidden—in fact it was in plain view—but Lori knew she could trust Leni not to hurt anyone with it. As long as there were no bullets in there of course. To them, Leni and guns meant a high risk of injury even though she had always been extremely careful with it. It was one of the very few things her family trusted her with. She couldn't take more pride in that.

At first Leni's biggest fear was that something had happened with Bobby or Lincoln, but she was proven wrong when Lori began ranting loudly about a college letter she had received in the mail. Apparently she hadn't been accepted. It was her fourth application in a row and none of the colleges she applied to had accepted her, so her frustration was understandable. Still, Leni didn't want it to have a ripple effect. Lives were on the line here and she couldn't afford to let any emotions cloud her judgment. Stress, anger, and frustration could easily point her in the killing direction. That was the last thing she wanted. On the other hand, the more peaceful choice could be the wrong choice…. And so the war raged on…

"Leni, are you even listening to me?!" Lori shouted, on the verge of screaming.

"Of course! I'm just like, making sure I hear everything right."

"Well at least act interested! I'll _never_ get anywhere at this rate!" her sister cried, flopping face-down on her bed.

Leni walked over to her and frowned. "Yes you will. Those colleges are totes missing out."

"All I have are my good looks and charm…" Lori murmured into the blankets. "I don't have the money or the brains… And I'll literally be paying off student loans forever…"

Well…that wasn't entirely true… Their parents would put them all through college if they could afford it… But for now nobody had the money for that, even collectively. But… Leni put a hand on her sister's back and peered over her shoulder at the rifle still resting on her bed. She…sh-she would have to ask about the money… Terry said she would be paid "large sums". How large? And…was it…was it still okay to accept money at the cost of a life, even if it was the life of a person who didn't deserve to live? Assassins accepted money… Then again, assassins _only_ killed for money, for their own self-gain. She wouldn't be in it for the money, although it was a great bonus. No. If _by chance_ she accepted that offer, she would be doing it to protect people. And the money would go to her family.

Wait. But then they would all wonder where she was getting all that money, or where she was getting any money at all. She couldn't very well tell them she was being paid to murder. Wait, no, i-it wasn't murder. Murder was a crime, a-and she wouldn't be committing crimes. Correction: she couldn't tell them she was being paid to kill people. Like Terry said, uninformed citizens, such as her family, would see it as illegal despite being an order issued by the government. She could just find a way to secretly give them the money.

If she chose to accept! And…right now, the offer was looking better and better. She loved her sister. She loved all her sisters. She loved her brother too. But college was expensive and her parents had been struggling to take care of eleven kids for a long time now—a time expanse of years. They didn't have the money to put one kid through college, or even help them, let alone put all eleven of them through college. Unless her parents won the lottery everyone would end up in debt, and working to pay off student loans for a very long time, just like Lori said.

But if she had "large sums of money" and she found a way to secretly give it to her family, it was possible that none of them would end up in debt. All her siblings could start their jobs without worrying about student loans and her parents might have an easier time caring for all the kids left in the nest. All in all, everyone could have a better life…

But…what if there was a different way to get that kind of money? Like um…well, fat chance of the lottery idea, but what about— HER OWN FASHION LABEL. If she could become a great fashion designer then she could earn tons of money without killing a single person! It was perfect!

Wait. No it wasn't. She needed to have a lot of money to do that… She didn't have a lot of money…

Lori melodramatically sobbed and said something incomprehensible with her face buried into her bed, but Leni didn't really need to know what was said to know it was something relevant to her distress about college. First it was only the problem of protection that she struggled with, but now money was becoming another issue to add—another reason that job was becoming so much more tempting. This was exactly why she didn't want to open that door. She didn't need any more pressure but it was like the cosmos were trying to force a "yes" on her, when another half wanted to say a very solid "no".

At that last note she started wondering if she was getting this all wrong. Did morals actually matter in all this? Surely the police found it hard to shoot someone, especially if it was their first time. But they were doing it to protect other civilians. They were doing what was best for everyone else. Did morals play into that? Did morals play into _anything_ when so much was at stake?

Lori turned over and sat up, mascara leaving fresh black streaks down her cheeks and chin.

"At least you can get some sort of gun scholarship or something, if they have those…" her sister murmured, gesturing to the rifle sitting on the bed across from hers.

"W-Well… I don't really know if they do… A-And it's just a really old hunting rifle anyway." Not high-powered and advanced like the promised new weapon of a killing job…

"It does have a little character," Lori said, observing the obvious scratches on the wood. "But Mom says you shoot well with it anyway. I'll look up if they have any scholarships for marksmanship."

She gasped as if she'd just been insulted. "I have _never_ marked a man's ship!"

"No, Leni, that's not— Never mind."

She stormed off to the bathroom in pretend offense and slammed the door shut, making sure to lock it. Hopefully with this one shut and locked, no one would enter. She could think in peace. But think about what? The decision was so obvious. Technically she would be doing what police did. The only difference was that she would be doing it in secret. She would also be paid for it. She would be helping her family _a lot_. She would be helping her own future and continue to help her family that way. On top of that she would get free training, a free gun, free gun accessories, and free ammunition. But the most important part was that, though it was very ironic, she would be protecting people. All she had to do…was say yes.

If she said no, then what? Sure, she wouldn't have to kill anyone, and that was great, but her family would continue to struggle, she would be stuck with a gradually dying Winchester 88, innocent people would die for no reason, and all hope of becoming a fashion designer in a last attempt to help her family would be dashed. She would likely never be considered a valid candidate for recruit again.

She looked in the mirror and pulled up her dress to reveal three ragged scars that hadn't faded at all over the course of a year. Nothing hurt anymore but…she still remembered how slow and agonizing the healing process had been, both physically and mentally. If this was truly going to be a tug of war between morals, then she could now take this into account: she was not the only girl who suffered this way. Was it right to let predators continue to leave scars like these? Was it right to let other girls, past, present, and future, continue to be ashamed of themselves and their bodies because of something beyond their control? She herself had fought back and she'd fought hard. She tried, she yelled, she kicked, hit, and thrashed around, but it still wasn't enough. And it happened because she had said no to him. Had she said yes things would've turned out so much better for her.

She had made a huge mistake saying no last time. Was it _right_ to make the same mistake again? Had she not _learned_ from that? Had _nothing_ come of it? Moral war settled.

She dropped her dress and pulled out both Terry's business card and her cell phone. She dialed the number on the card and prayed that nothing else would get in the way of her decision.


	6. Chapter 6

-Chapter 6-

Leni gently swung her dad's Winchester by her side as she waved goodbye to her mother. Once Vanzilla was no longer in her line of sight, she leaned against the wall outside the range and sent a quick text to Terry asking to be picked up and taken to this…place. She didn't really know what to call it yet but she assumed it would be just like this range in a different building. Unfortunately the nearest place was about an hour away. Terry, however, already knew to expect her and had only waited a few blocks away.

Her car wasn't what Leni imagined it to be. It didn't scream "official government vehicle", it was just an ordinary blue car that could seat four people. Maybe five if someone volunteered to sit in the middle. Terry rolled down the passenger window and motioned for her to get in.

For a few seconds she had cold feet, but remembering the scars on her side—and feeling them without even touching them—pushed her to get in anyway. The deal was that Rita would drop her off at the range every day—or, at least always on the weekends, but school days weren't always so certain—and Terry would come to pick her up once her mother was gone, that way she could train with her new weapon—a surprise that "anyone would prefer over a Winchester 88"—for at least a few hours daily before returning to the range so her mother could take her back home. She was free to either skip school or go to school if she wanted, since she was only training for the agency and not actually working for them yet. Terry said they could cover her absences. Fashion designing didn't really require a college degree so skipping college wasn't a worry for her anymore. She decided to go ahead and tell Terry ahead of time that after this weekend, she did want to go back to school and could come to the range later—the dumb act worked just as well on the teachers and they had long since given up on giving her homework. But for the sake of feeling like she could make mental achievements like the rest of her family, she wanted to stay in school and continue answering questions correctly in her head. Her GPA had always been low but she could definitely get a decent ACT/SAT score if she wanted to. And she wanted to.

"Where do I…?" Leni held up the Winchester.

"Oh, you can just put it in the back seat," Terry answered.

Leni opened the passenger door and slid into the car, slinging the Winchester as carefully as she could onto the back seat. In one sense, this was a new adventure she was about to begin, and it excited her. In another sense, she knew the excitement would die immediately upon receiving her first mission…to kill a human being.

"You look a little nervous," Terry pointed out as they drove off.

"It's the first time I've ever… I-I mean I've never…you know…killed anybody before. It just feels like I'm going against myself," she replied. "I have no idea how I'm going to live with that kind of blood on my hands. But my family needs the money and…I really do want to protect people…"

"Everyone starts out nervous. It's not an easy job. But there's no need to be nervous right now," Terry said. "I think you'll get a real kick out of this gun. Besides, this is only the training period, you won't be killing anyone. You have a lot of time left before you should ever even think of worrying. Oh! And additionally, the later stages of training are meant to help you think straight and not be so nervous your first time. Everyone always says the first time is the hardest."

"What if I can't do it?"

"You can do it. You have a lot of motivation and I can just see that drive to protect your loved ones."

She sighed and looked out the car window, mostly silent for the remainder of the ride. Excitement and anxiety swirled together. It wasn't something she was used to. The closest comparison would be maybe the first day of school? And not just the first day of each year when summer ends, not the annual "first day". No, the very first time you enter your very first school. The time when every little kid was told it would be so fun and amazing but at the same time it was a new environment—things they had never known before, places they had never been before, and people they had never met before. _That_ first day of school.

"We're here," Terry announced as she parked behind a large warehouse with a metal chain fence surrounding a huge parking lot that surrounded the warehouse itself. Like target rings, she noted.

They both got out of Terry's car, leaving the now unimportant Winchester in the back seat, and the woman locked it as she led Leni inside. What she thought was a warehouse was not at _all_ a warehouse. There was no mistake about it—this building was for the training Terry had been talking about yesterday. It was nothing like the range. Everyone else wore these black business, government-type suits while Terry had converted to the casual clothing she'd claimed to prefer. Maybe it was to avoid suspicion, kind of like an undercover thing.

This had to have been a converted warehouse though because the somewhat rusted metal on the sides and ceiling had clearly not been painted in a very long time—the white was severely faded. Cheap lighting hung in three rows running the length of the ceiling, but still seemed strong and durable enough and kept the place well lit.

The bottom had slate tiles that covered the entire floor without switching to anything else except a cute little welcome mat. There was a shoe rack beside the door with no shoes on it and on the other side was…something…? It looked like a curved divider with a thick white curtain that hung all the way around, starting and ending right against the same side of the wall, forming a half-circle.

"Curious about that?" Terry asked, pointing to the half-circle curtain thing.

"A little," she admitted.

Terry chuckled. "Well don't worry about it right now, we'll get to that later. For now, you need to get used to…" She led Leni over to a wide table full of different types of guns, ammo, knives, and what looked like cleaning supplies. " _This_ baby." She held up a black rifle that was definitely newer, more advanced, and more powerful than her father's elderly Winchester.

"What is it?" she asked as Terry shoved it into her. "Feels different from what I'm used to…" And twice as heavy.

"This is the base rifle of the Remington MSR," she proudly answered.

"What's a base rifle?"

"It means no accessories are attached to it. Now, your Winchester 88 is also a base rifle and weighs about seven pounds. The Remington MSR's base weighs about thirteen pounds. By the time it's fully equipped it'll weigh somewhere around seventeen pounds."

"So this is my new weapon? Won't it slow me down? I mean the Winchester is old, sure, but it's lighter and smaller than this."

"You're not used to handling the Remington. Once you get used to it, weight won't be a problem."

Leni looked it over. The weapon of future bloodshed. It wasn't even loaded and already the Winchester was a sewing needle compared to this thing. It looked like power, it felt like power, and…and if she got used to this gun… Did that mean she wouldn't have a problem killing people? It would be best if she did have that problem for the sake of not losing her humanity, but it would make her job all the harder. Maybe even impossible. No. No. This was just a gun for now. It was only hitting targets for now. Terry was right, she didn't have anything to worry about at the moment.

"Here's a little ammo," Terry said, handing her a few small magazines. "The Remington MSR is a bolt-action rifle but it's much more advanced than any other you've seen. See the bottom of it?"

She flipped the gun over to reveal a rectangular opening that followed the length of the gun, like a port for something—she assumed it was for the magazines.

"That's where you'll put a magazine in it. Now look at the right side of it."

She turned the gun back over and positioned it to its right side. But…nothing really struck her as odd or special except what looked like a cage guarding the barrel.

"Right here," Terry said, pointing at a metal piece that stuck out. "This is called a bolt handle. Use that to open the bolt. It'll automatically push out the bullet case. Got all that?"

"Um. I think so," she mumbled.

"Great! Now let's get to work."

Leni followed her through a door she'd somehow overlooked earlier and was greeted with the exact same floor, wall, and ceiling. The difference? There were interchangeable targets identical to the ones at the range. There were no stalls to go into and the targets were farther away than normal. They also didn't hang from the wall or ceiling, they stood on one small metal pole each, all black. She viewed it almost as a bowling alley and stepped up to a white line standing out against the slate floor, nervously holding her new rifle and magazines to her chest.

"Just pretend you're using a Winchester," Terry instructed. "But don't reload on every other bullet you shoot, just use that handle each time and let the gun do the rest. Try to make the same shots you did at the range and one-up these sorry bunch of hypocrites."

All the others in the room—guards, she assumed—growled at Terry.

"Good luck, Leni."

She took deep, slow breaths and tried to calm herself down, telling herself that it was fine, that it was just a big Winchester that loaded and unloaded differently, that she could do this, that the weight wouldn't matter, that she would probably get bad shots the first few times but then get really good ones and then great ones and then perfect ones and then she would prove to herself that she had absolutely nothing to be nervous over.

Then again she'd felt the same way when she first started shooting with the Winchester… Maybe it was a normal feeling.

She still held the rifle to her chest but knelt down to put the magazines by her side, picking a random one to keep. She inserted it into the Remington the way Terry told her to and stood back up, this time pointing the rifle away from her now that it was loaded.

"Just pretend it's the Winchester," she whispered to herself. "Juuuust pretend it's the Winchester."

…There were no sights… Okay, okay, this could still work, it was just a little bit _more_ different but no problem, no problem. She could just…aim right above the center. Yeah. Just, imagine that there was a front sight.

She pointed the barrel straight at the center of her bonus targ— Forget the bonus, she wouldn't make that shot this time. For now she chose the better option and aimed only for the regular center. Even if she barely clipped the sides of that red dot, it could still be considered a _huge_ personal victory for her. Her gun versus that dot.

She pulled the trigger when she thought her aim was good enough, and almost pushed herself back from the sheer power of that gun. Maybe it was just her but it didn't sound the same as when she shot her dad's rifle. But she was also wearing headphones at the time too so maybe that was it. But worse than the difference in sound, she didn't hit the center at all. She got lucky enough to hit the outside of the second ring.

Oh! Right, the bullet case. She pulled the bolt handle and just as Terry said, the case popped right out.

"Uh, Leni, is something wrong?" Terry asked from the sidelines.

In other words, she made an absolutely horrible shot and Terry was just being nice about it.

"I don't know what I'm doing with this thing. It's heavier, it's longer, there's more force, there are no sights, I can't aim it… I haven't made a shot that bad since I first started!"

"That's completely normal—you're going from a Winchester 88 to a Remington MSR. Basically you're transitioning from very old to very new. It's okay if you don't get it immediately, right? Just keep trying, like you did your first time with your dad's rifle."

She only had a few hours to do this. Normally she never stayed at the range for more than that and tomorrow was Monday, which meant school. Unless, of course, she wanted to skip school. Just one day couldn't hurt… No! No. She wasn't undergoing this training so she could go play hooky. She needed school to get a good ACT/SAT score, otherwise she could kiss college goodbye.

She took a deep breath and tried to aim the barrel a little lower this time. But when she pulled the trigger, the bullet had only ended up in the same place as before. She was letting the gun push up, just like she had with the Winchester… Holding the weight down to secure the gun in place and make it _stay_ in place while it shot would be tough, but if she could do that then all she had to do next was find out how to aim it. For now, she would just focus on keeping it still and straight, no matter how bad the actual aim of that shot was going to be.

Okay, so now she had a plan that wouldn't make her worry about multiple things. Very simple. Keep. The gun. Still.

She only bothered to aim at the target in general, not at the center, and only because she didn't want to hit the wall. She was pretty sure they didn't want her to hit the wall either. All that mattered now was keeping the gun still, and she would hit that target. Although they would've done well to consider moving the targets closer.

She tensed around the gun and pulled the trigger, this time feeling more like she had to force a tendon to snap around than pulling the trigger normally. The Remington still moved, albeit _much_ less than before. She also managed to hit the target. It helped boost her confidence a little, something she really needed with this new gun.

"Leni, you know you're supposed to try to hit the center of the target, right?"

"I'm not worried about the target right now, I'm just trying to get this gun under control first."

She pulled the handle and the bullet case ejected again. At least she wasn't forgetting how to use a bolt-action. It certainly didn't crack open like a Winchester 88 but it was otherwise the same. Sort of. To her.

For the rest of her time spent there she only really practiced keeping the rifle still. As long as she hit the target at all, aim was never her focus. But the weight and force posed a real problem for her. It was almost like she didn't have the physical strength necessary to wield heavier weapons that tried to move around.

By the time she got back to the range, she was exhausted, and worse, she still hadn't mastered the gun. Dealing with ten siblings and two parents wasn't something she was up for right now. For the sake of secrecy she'd been told her Remington _had_ to stay in the warehouse/training facility and that she wasn't allowed to speak a word about anything involving them. To say the least she was fine with that. Explaining why she had this sleek new rifle that she couldn't even control yet was… Well, she just didn't want to do that. I was best if nobody knew anything about her training, her future job, the agency, nothing. Ever.

Her mom came a few minutes after Terry left and she almost _dragged_ her Winchester behind her. She had to carry it horizontally.

"So, how did it go today?" her mother asked. "Make any progress?"

Pfft. What progress?

"I think I'm getting better, little by little," she answered as she got in Vanzilla and rubbed her thumb over the rifle's barrel.

"When we have the time I'll bring the whole family over to show them how good you're getting. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Her parents really only had "time" on weekends and those were designated training days… She wasn't sure if she could change that over something like this, especially since it would put her behind on whatever she happened to be improving on—hopefully, _hopefully_ , the Remington—but she would have to try now… She knew Terry well enough to start trusting her so maybe if she just talked to Terry the agency would let one day slide. And she could make up for it, as much as she hated this, by skipping school the next day. But, hopefully they would simply let it go and she could resume later.

Unless… "It's okay, Mom. I _really_ want to impress everyone. I can't let them see me fail!"

"Oh, sweetie, we're your family. It's been a while since I've had the time to really stop and watch you shoot anyway. I think I'll be the most excited," her mother giggled.

Well, so much for lack of perfection… She would have to mess up those shots to show her family she wasn't getting too much better, if at all. Then she could continue going to the range to get better…after being transported from there to a training facility without her parents' consent or knowledge and then from the facility back to the range. But now that she had completely mastered the Winchester, thanks to Terry's tip, she could fake "making progress" with it. Only progress now was the Remington. _That_ , she was glad her family could never see. Not just because it was supposed to stay a secret, but also because she had humiliated herself enough with it already. In front of strangers. Multiple strangers. And Terry. Multiple times.

They parked and Leni picked up her dad's rifle and went inside without another word to her mother. Another day of training would be harsh…but waking up early for school with little energy as it was would be harsher. Ugh. Maybe just one day absent— Nope. Nooooope. She needed a cross to get away from this temptation, and a priest shouting, "BE GONE, DEMONS!" The temptation of accepting this job was strong—though in the end she managed to make her decision based off facts—she didn't need any temptation on anything else for a long, long, looong time, especially regarding school absences.

She made her way through her crowd of siblings and went upstairs, once again locking her bedroom door and only hoping no one would try to enter.

She lazily threw the Winchester onto her bed and followed suit. Hopefully the Remington MSR would eventually become as light as the Winchester 88. Then she would have no problem stabilizing it and shooting with it. Maybe once she got the gun under control they would let her use a scope. Those were supposed to help with accuracy, right? Since there were no sights, a scope would be great to have. She wasn't sure how great since she wasn't used to magnified targets, but…couldn't be all that bad.

It was still early but a nap was in order.

And thus, her first, but far from last, day of training was complete.


	7. Chapter 7

-Chapter 7-

Juggling school, training, and secrecy was taxing, but it was paying off. She was still going to the range—and made sure never to hit the center of the target when and if her family happened to be there—which meant she spent hours practicing at the training facility. And the Remington MSR, now that Terry finally attached a scope to it, was easier than ever to aim with. And it wasn't just her aim that had so drastically improved, she'd been using the Remington for so long now that she felt nothing when picking it up and even controlling it. It was fully equipped now. Seventeen pounds. And she could proudly say that she could tote it around without getting slow or tired.

She could also say—and so could Terry—that her aim from pretty much any distance was now exceptional. Those interchangeable targets began moving once she was somewhat decent with this gun and at first it seemed impossible to hit, whether they were slow or not, but she got the hang of it. They raised the bar even higher by adding a scope and faster targets at the same time. A magnifying glass with two intersecting lines and targets moving at an even faster pace than before was _not_ an easy thing to master. It took her a month before she was able to hit them dead in the center almost each time—once she got used to the scope, the targets were ten times less of a problem.

Then they changed the targets again, this time not the speed, but the target itself. Now they looked like vertical blue rectangles with a small black dot a little above the center. The first few times, these new targets didn't move at all and she could hit them spot on with no problem. But when they started to move, things got a little more challenging. The dot was smaller so it took her several days to start hitting those the way Terry expected her to. And it impressed the "sorry bunch of hypocrites" as well. She'd found out just a few days after she started training that her bad shooting had made Terry look like a fool for even considering her. But now Terry was the one picking on them for their lack of faith. And Leni just kept making more and more progress, opening new floodgates for Terry to brag about her.

But catching up to current speed…they had changed the targets again…and this time…they were shaped like humans… They didn't move.

Leni could raise the gun, look through the scope, and aim directly at the chest. But…she couldn't bring herself to pull the trigger. They were only dummy targets but with a gun like this and a bloody future ahead, she couldn't help but imagining them as real people. Alive. Breathing. Begging her to spare their lives. Terry's jabs came to a sudden halt with this one as Leni realized that this training wasn't just about the gun—they were _breaking her in_.

It…maybe…m-maybe it was necessary. Or maybe they weren't even… But these dummies… And the Remington…

Terry came up behind her as she stood stiffly in place, holding her gun up, looking through the scope, aiming at its chest…but not shooting even though her finger was already on the trigger.

"I can't do this…" Leni whispered.

The woman put a hand on her shoulder in consolation, as if understanding why.

"I don't know what's wrong with me, I-I can't shoot them."

"They only look like people. They're not real," Terry replied. "They don't even have faces."

She lowered her gun and shook her head. "I know, I just… I can't… I don't know why, I just can't shoot them…"

Terry moved from behind her to beside her and tapped her chin in thought, mumbling short somethings to herself every few seconds. It almost looked like she was having a moderately intense debate between two sides of herself. It made Leni wonder if she was thinking about just sending her back home and telling her to never come back, that she wasn't and would never be fit for this "job". And maybe she wasn't. Maybe she couldn't cut it like she thought she could. Maybe determination and incentives weren't enough.

"I think I know why," Terry said. "And I think I know how to help. Your first day of training, same day you got the Remington MSR, before we even got here, you told me shooting someone 'went against yourself'? Something like that. Well faces or not, these are shaped like humans. Nobody can _force_ you to see them as anything else. Only you can do that. So if you want to think of them as humans, okay, but try thinking of them as bad people—try thinking of them as the man who wanted you dead. And there are so many other people, even children… Think about the children. Think about your sisters. Your little brother."

If anything happened to her family, siblings in particular, her parents would be so…so… _devastated_. Especially her mother, after knowing what happened to her… And those statistics Terry talked about a long time ago at the range. Lori had finally been accepted into college. Her sister was going to college. The reason she agreed to do this was to protect and provide for her family. If that meant gunning down a criminal, taking a life, then it was worth it to protect them. And not just them, but as many people as she could.

She lifted the Remington and took a deep breath as she peered into its scope. She made the chest her target, and the heart her bonus target. She aimed at the chest, a little to the right, and a little above the heart. There was a thought of, "Don't do this!" but it was fleeting and left no sooner than it came. She pulled the trigger and the bullet ripped through the center of her bonus target—the center of its heart.

The bolt handle was pulled. The case dropped out. Any second thoughts were pushed aside. Whatever nervousness she had lingering from before went with the bullet. All she had to do was imagine a killer and even if she didn't necessarily _want_ to, she was able to pull the trigger and shoot the dummy. In this case she just wanted to finish training.

Which would last much longer than she expected. That single shot had been enough to allow her to continue shooting more dummies until they finally began moving. For some reason it kept throwing off her concentration, like something was trying to stop her. She couldn't explain it but whatever was happening, it was very distracting. She couldn't shoot well for a good week thanks to that little…whatever it was. But it quieted down son enough and she began improving, getting closer and closer to her bonus target until she hit them dead on every time.

Then they started changing variables. When she shot the "heart" the dummy would fall down—something she wasn't too fond of—and bleed red paint from the bullet hole. They changed skin tones, genders, and gave them generic faces. She changed distances every shot or two. She was taught to start using the biped for supposedly better aim—although by now she'd grown so used to handling the Remington without a biped that she preferred not to have it at all. The targets moved faster or slower at random intervals. She started shooting either the head or chest at their command.

And when she felt nothing towards the group of nonliving, foam and plastic dummies, the "sorry bunch of hypocrites" took full notice. Terry traded the Remington MSR out for a black Glock 43 handgun. Another new weapon, except this time she couldn't pretend it was a Winchester, Remington, or any other rifle. Before she even got started shooting with it, she reminded herself of how frustrated she felt shooting with the Winchester and Remington. Thankfully one of those frustrations had included a weight problem. This little handgun felt like holding a pen compared to a completed Remington MSR. There would be no problem in keeping it under control.

Just like with the Remington, Terry enthusiastically showed her how to load, unload, point, and shoot the Glock. To Leni, "aiming" didn't quite cut it for such a little gun. A sniper…versus this thing. There was no comparison. But to Terry the weapon fanatic, this was nothing short of a masterpiece. And since Terry had become a friend over time, Leni trusted her with these gun decisions.

"This is not to kill your targets with," Terry informed her. "It's for close combat. If you're faced with someone who wants to kill you, you have an advantage. Unlike the Remington this little baby is quick to pull out and shoot. You don't have to kill them, you don't have to aim just right, you simply need to point and shoot. As long as it hits anywhere on the body, it's done its work. Furthermore this can be a concealed weapon. Just remember that its goal is not to kill, it's to protect you."

"Self-defense."

Terry snapped her fingers, smiled, and pointed at her.

Up until the day she got the Remington she'd been all about self-defense. A quick and easy to use gun sounded much better now. Still not as good as the Remington or Winchester but hey, she hadn't tried it out yet.

She went back through the door and stepped up to the white line. The targets were much closer than before. It even felt like they were right in her face. She couldn't imagine how bad her focus with any rifle would be when targets were magnified at this short a distance.

More than that, they weren't the dummies to which she had become so accustomed. They were blue silhouettes of a person and it looked like they were just printed on long pieces of paper. No faces or any other intricate details. Maybe they had decided she didn't need that anymore.

Either way, she knew the routine and raised her new Glock 43 to the first target.

"Remember, Leni, this _don't_ try to aim perfectly," Terry reminded her. "This isn't a rifle."

Fine. No real aim. Not like she was used to actually _caring_ where the bullet went…

She took a deep breath and closed one eye.

"No, no, Leni, don't… You're still trying to make a perfect shot. Use both eyes, look at the target, then shoot," Terry said.

Right. _Don't aim a gun_. Made sense.

…Actually it did kind of make sense. In a real life situation she wouldn't have time to aim. She had to learn to go fast.

She tried again, this time heeding Terry's advice and keeping both eyes open. It was her first time shooting a handgun and the "sorry bunch of hypocrites" were prepared to make jabs about her eminent screwups. And of course, they got their comedy when she failed to hit _anywhere_ on the body. She managed to hit several inches away from the neck. Close to anyone else, but far away for someone who was used to placing perfect holes in the chest and head. And apparently, it was far away for the sorry hypocrites too.

Maybe she was just holding the gun too loosely… It was small and light but still had power and still needed to be controlled.

She sighed and had to remind herself that it was her first shot. There were plenty more to come and she had had plenty of time to practice. After the fifth shot, though, she only hit two fingers. Obviously she still wasn't getting how firmly her grip needed to be—tight, but not too tight. She hadn't found that midpoint yet. It was pretty discouraging… At least with the Remington she had prior experience, thanks to her dad's Winchester. But this. She had zilch with this thing. Maybe if she just…

She thought back to the range. Every time she'd been there, handguns accompanied it. She couldn't honestly tell the difference between any of them, but she knew how the men carrying them shot. Their stance. Their arms. Their focus. If she could be a little bit of a copycat and do the same thing then maybe…

She held the gun straight out in front of her and stared at the general target. No bonus target. No aiming. Just shooting.

She pulled the trigger and new hole burst into the silhouette. She hadn't hit the chest or head, or anywhere too important, but she got the hip. But the men at the range didn't just shoot once and stop. She pulled the trigger again. This time it was the waist.

She kept going, kept reloading, kept getting…well, anywhere right now. Only once had she gotten probably where a lung was, but it was still the chest and therefore, it was still a good shot. Yes, Terry told her not to aim for any one place, but if it was close combat, wouldn't it be a good idea to just kill them on the spot? Wouldn't it be better than making them suffer by hitting an artery or something, and letting them bleed to death? Better a kill then no kill, better a quick death than slow. Almost like…a mercy killing.

Her drive increased more and more as she came closer to the heart, and not just by accident. It was powerful enough for her to get this down in two weeks, making Terry even prouder of her. And of course, the sorry bunch of hypocrites once again returned to being picked on for the same reason as before.

After she knew how to handle both the Glock 43 and Remington MSR, they began sessions in hand-to-hand combat. But because she'd already been so obsessed with self-defense, and had already taken _many_ martial arts classes, it was probably the easiest thing they could ever teach her. She was required to start exercising though because while she knew the moves and performed them well, she lacked the strength to fight hard enough. So they put all training on hiatus while she kept her shooting skills sharp by practicing on the dummies for the hours normally spent at the range. At home she secretly put herself through rigorous exercise. It wore her out and she was slowing down a lot in school, her entire body sore and angrily demanding a nap. But as the saying went, no pain no gain.

There were several times she wanted to just give up, to say it wasn't worth this much effort. But then she remembered Lori sobbing on the bed… She remembered the financial issues her family was suffering… And every time she undressed she saw those three scars and remembered why she ever viewed this job as an important one. She wouldn't just be saving lives with this, she would also be saving her family. Besides, she had come so far already, why give up now? She didn't know how much longer this would go on but she had to be getting close.

But, after all that combat training, they still weren't done with her. Next up was sabotage. Now sabotage she already knew plenty about, but she had never done it before, nor was she ever in a situation in which she could do it. Or if she was, she didn't know it.

They started off simple. It was basically just a lecture. Different situation, different circumstances, different variables. Each came with the question, "How do you stop it?" Verbally answering a question was so easy she thought of it as a joke, but when Terry was told to take her to a different building that looked pretty much identical to the first one, she found out the hard way that sabotage and stealth came hand in hand—she had to physically perform both at the same time.

The room that was meant for target practice at the other warehouse look like a drama stage with closed, black curtains in this one. There were no dummies, no targets, and no guns. She was a little surprised that Terry was able to walk into this building without having some new, incredible, fascinating weapon to show off.

"Okay," Terry said. "You've prooooobably noticed this is a little different from what you've seen so far."

She nodded her head in agreement.

"Look up at the ceiling," the woman instructed.

She looked up and noticed that the lights were a little different. They looked newer, sturdier, and more expensive.

"They're remote-controlled. They can dim down and brighten back up at our will," Terry explained. "From your verbal test, you seem to know plenty about sabotage already, which saves a lot of time. But now you're going to work on stealth. I know that your…'incident' took place at night. I understand if you're a little uncomfortable in the dark. Well, darkness provides a cloak for you—"

"Can we not turn the lights off?" Leni blurted.

Admittedly she had been terrified of the dark ever since that night. Lori kept thinking that she would get over it but by now, it had been nearly two years and her phobia, if anything, had only grown. Night terrors had tended to be worse at night a couple years back, even though she would also have them during the day, and the only way to snap her out of it was to turn the light on. Lori had recognized the pattern and bought a nightlight. A week or so after that, the night terrors lessened to nightmares, and a few months after that, she was able to sleep peacefully. And ever since then, she'd never had another nightmare or terror. So as long as there was light, she felt safe enough to sleep.

But even awake, whether she was alone or not, and no matter who was with her, she couldn't handle darkness. Her eyes would play tricks on her and she would start seeing shadows moving around. They seemed so real that her fear would take over and force her into believing that they were. It only took a couple of minutes for that to happen and once it did, she would completely lose her mind.

She could tell herself, and had told herself many times, that she was fine now, but it was all too obvious that some trauma remained. It was something she didn't want other people to see because other people didn't need a _rifle_ in their room to feel safest, other people weren't wary around men, other people could be afraid of the dark without having an extremely severe, off-the-charts panic attack.

If the lights in the room were turned off…

Terry took a small breath. "Okay. Okay. We won't, don't worry. Can we make it so it's almost dark? Would that work?"

Leni stared at the lights for a few seconds before answering, "We can try, I guess."

But there was still a possibility that she could freak out, even if it was just a little. The nightlight she had wasn't too bright though, and she was okay with that. Maybe she would be okay with this, too.

"Your goal here is to be invisible," Terry said. "But! That's not all. We've hidden a red stone in there." She pointed to the stage. "You'll go behind those curtains, get it, and come back out. There'll be cameras—try not to let them see you. On another note, you'll be the only one in there, so you only have to worry about the cameras. It doesn't matter if we hear you, but if we see you, the lights will come back on. Got it?"

"Sure. But, the lights won't be _completely_ off, right? You said they'll 'come back on'…"

"No, they'll still be on, but…it would be easier for you if they were off. They'll just be very dim, _almost_ dark. Oh, right! And the cameras don't move. Use that to your advantage. There are also other tools in there to help you get through."

She took a deep breath and pushed the curtains aside, slipping through. She had only a split second to take in her surroundings before the lights became softer and softer, until it was as Terry said—just barely lit. She had very limited eyesight after that, and could hardly make out what was ten feet in front of her, but it was enough to tell where the nearest camera was. It was a hallway and it had at least one door—she couldn't tell if it had any other doors or if this was the only one. She also couldn't tell how long the hallway was. The warehouse itself hadn't looked this long, but she could've misjudged it. Sometimes buildings were bigger on this inside.

She took a few steps forward, watching the camera. Upon closer inspection, there was no pitch black hole in the center of the square, meaning it was probably facing away from her. Plus the lights hadn't returned to normal, so she hadn't been spotted. She didn't have to worry about sound or moving cameras, so she took the opportunity to look around on the floor, trying to find any of the tools Terry mentioned. There was a knife with a serrated edge lying right under the camera. As she moved on to get it, she realized what it was for—or at least, what she could do with it.

She bent down, picked it up, and looked at the camera again. Behind it was a cord. If she could just cut through that, there was no way the camera could see her and she could pass by unseen.

But…how could she reach it…? She could jump up and grab it, but she wasn't sure if it would hold her weight. She was light and pretty much anyone could pick her up with ease, but that small piece of metal that attached the camera to the wall looked…well, unreliable. There had to be some other way.

She held onto the knife and began to scan the area for even the smallest of objects. There were none that she could see but she didn't know if that was because there was nothing there or if it was because it was too dark to make anything out. She already had a knife, though, and if there was a ladder she probably would've spotted that before she even reached the camera. So— Wait. There was something… A slight shadow thing just barely peeking out from the wall, closer to where she came in.

She walked over to it and reached out, but stopped herself before she could touch it. It wasn't completely dark but she could hardly see a thing. Even a nightlight was brighter than this—a _lot_ brighter. She hadn't seen that thing on the wall before. Why was she seeing it now? What if it hadn't been there before? What if someone sneaked in and placed it there when she wasn't looking? Leni's arm snapped back to her side and she decided it was best not to touch it.

She took deep breaths to calm herself down.


	8. Chapter 8

-Chapter 8-

The breathing didn't work and they had to turn the lights back to normal once those deep breaths turned into hyperventilation. It was Terry and one other woman she didn't know who got her out and calmed her down enough to start breathing properly again. After that they promised they wouldn't test her in darkness again.

It should've been seen as debilitating, and maybe it was, but the test itself wasn't about withstanding darkness, it was about sabotage and stealth. Terry explained that the reason they had tried it with the lights almost completely off was to help hide her. But…she would just have to work in the daytime, or near plenty of light. She was told that it was normal to work during the day, but that it was easier to work at night. So maybe her fear of the dark didn't matter as much as she thought it did. Maybe that was why they didn't just kick her out of training.

Either that, or it was because Terry prided herself in having chosen "by far" one of the best, if not the best, marksmen. If that was true—if Terry wasn't just trying to boost morale by glorifying her like that—then she was an invaluable resource. Maybe Terry was right in her judgement, because a long time ago she'd said that she could "just see Leni's drive". And Leni did have drive. She had to aim right, every time, and overcome any and all obstacles to both protect other girls from everything she had been through herself and help her financially struggling family. It was that drive that made her think like a perfectionist—if the dummy wasn't dead on shot numero uno, she viewed it as failure. And perhaps it was because of that that she rarely ever missed a shot straight to either the heart or head. This didn't include the handgun. She'd learned only to aim in in the general direction of the body, but she tried to make her "general focus" the head or chest. This way if, eventually, someone was to come after her, she could defend herself properly.

The second time she was tested with cameras, halls, etc., she realized that the shadowy thing from before was actually a loose plank. The reason she hadn't seen it was probably because her eyes hadn't adjusted to such little lighting. It was harder to take out than she thought it would be, but once she did, she leaned it against the wall right behind the camera, climbed up it, and used the knife to sever the cord. She carried her plank and knife around to take out the other cameras, finally seeing the red stone. She threw down the knife and plank, brought it back out, and officially passed without being spotted even once.

But that was just them going easy on a novice. The next test had the same goal, but this time the cameras moved at set intervals, looking back and forth every ten seconds. This time guns were allowed. She could pick any one she wanted. She figured a rifle would be too slow to shoot and reload. She chose the Glock. Instead of using a knife to cut through the cords, she simply shot them. Even though Terry had told her not to aim with it, she only needed a few seconds to aim right, unlike with the targets at the other warehouse in which she had no time at all to aim. But once she did, that camera was down and out.

These little sabotage tests lasted for a few weeks, each one getting harder and harder to pass. And no, she didn't manage to do everything just right, but once she figured out how to assess each situation, sneaking by without being seen or heard became easy. If this happened in real life it would probably be tougher. What she was doing was nothing more than simulations.

And even the simulations didn't vary too much. Eventually they replaced the cameras and hallway with other props and circumstances. One example would be the time she was told to make something look like an accident. The best two she could remember were shoving things up the exhaust pipe of a car and shooting a power box.

The total time it took to train in handling new weapons, getting used to seeing "blood", combat, sabotage tactics, stealth, infiltration, and espionage took almost two years.

And she had become so accustomed to being put through all those tests and training techniques that she barely realized how fast time had gone by. She still expected more training every day in summer and on weekends, and on school days when she had the time for it. Admittedly, even though she never wanted to skip school, there had been days that she'd skipped school to train more. None of her family ever questioned her about it—she doubted they even knew. That meant the agency really did cover her absences. Thankfully there hadn't been too many days missed.

She couldn't go to college just yet anyway. Terry said she would get paid in time, but she hadn't done any actual work for them, so she didn't have any money. Being the dumb blonde in the family came in handy this time—nobody expected her to get a job, start working, start making money, start contributing to family funds… Lori no longer had to split money. She was going to college now, even though she still lived at home.

Today's session, though, was supposedly her final one, and one that she would be paid for. She wouldn't be paid very much and she didn't know what it was yet, but at least she was finally getting something out of it.

Terry was taking her to a new place this time—it looked like a tiny, run-down barn a good ways off the road. It was entirely brown with vines all over it and even a tree growing from its side, ruining the wood there. The path to it was once gravel, but now grass had overtaken it and only bits and pieces of rocks could be found here and there.

"What is this place?" she asked as Terry slowed down and turned onto the path.

"This is where your last test will be. It's a…special place."

Just like all the other rides Terry gave her, she fell silent and simply watched as they approached the heap of rotting, messed up wood that should've been condemned a long time ago. But maybe people just wanted a big birdhouse or something. It looked to be the only possible reason this building still stood. How it could stand at all after so many years of obvious decay was a mystery.

"Your Remington is in my trunk," Terry said, parking the car right in front of the barn.

Leni got out and let Terry open the trunk to hand her the rifle. More target practice, probably to brush up on aiming with the scope. She hadn't really used it as much as when she first started. But if it was target practice why didn't they go to the other warehouse?

"So what are we doing this time?" she asked, feeding a magazine into her gun.

Terry remained quiet as she led Leni inside. Hidden behind the barn door—the only one that wasn't glued shut with vines—was a blindfolded man with a rolled up cloth tied around his mouth and bound to a chair with a rope. He perked up upon hearing the door open and turned his head in her direction.

"So…a hostage situation, right?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"Playtime is over, Leni," Terry said.

She felt her breath catch in her throat and looked at the man again. His head was facing forward now, his eyebrows furrowed, and not a single tear of apology for his crimes slipped loose. He was either very cold or was trying to be strong. Either way, they both knew she had to shoot him.

She raised her gun up and aimed it at his chest. It would be easier if she could just get it over with and try never to look back on it, go about pretending it never happened. And then what? What would she do with all the guilt she would carry around?

Nevertheless she wrapped her finger around the trigger, opting to worry about guilt later because right now something much bigger required her attention.

He was starting to sweat but otherwise showed no signs of fear. Here he was, at her mercy, but still trying to stay strong. He had to be afraid, anyone would.

"D-Does he h-have a family?" she stammered.

"Not that we know of," Terry replied. "But that's not important right now."

They were testing a different a different kind of strength this time, a strength that had never ever been tested or even exercised before. This man was real and living. He wasn't another dummy that would fall down and bleed dark red paint. He wasn't a mannequin with two small cameras for eyes that she was to avoid. He wasn't a sorry hypocrite dressed as a hostage that she was to rescue. For two years she had prepared for this—for seeing a real person die by her own hands, fall over, and bleed real blood. But…now that she was confronted with it… I-It all seemed easy in her imagination. Just aim, shoot, and run. And she was supposed to do that here, too…but…

Her finger eased up on the trigger and she slowly lowered her gun. He could be the most hardened criminal in existence but he was still human.

"I can't," she murmured. "I-It's not right."

"He killed eleven people with arson alone. Is it right to let him kill eleven more?"

She simply stared at the man, who made absolutely no attempt to object. If he hadn't done anything wrong, there was no way he would take a bullet to the chest without putting up even the smallest of fights.

"You asked me earlier if he had a family. Well what about the people he killed? What about their families? Think about a little boy who just became fatherless, or a wife who became a widow, or a father who lost his daughter. Would you want that on your conscience? This is your chance to stop more families from attending a funeral."

In other words, would she choose to kill the innocent or the guilty? Because by not killing him, by letting him go, he was free to kill the innocent, and since she was the one who allowed him to do that, she was also at fault. But if she shot him now, he couldn't hurt anyone else ever again and the innocent would be safe to raise their little ones, make new friends, go to family reunions, spend holidays together…and be thankful that no one would be gone. No one would have to mourn any losses.

She took a deep breath and raised her gun again. She took aim at his heart, wrapped her finger around the trigger…and fired. His body jerked with the bullet at close range and blood splattered onto the wall behind him. His head hung and he remained motionless as blood dribbled down the rope. This was nothing like the dummies. It was hands down the most shocking, nauseating sight she'd ever seen.

She dropped her gun and bit her lip as tears began to fall.

"I killed him!" she yelled, falling to her knees and holding her stomach.

Terry bent down and rubbed her back. "You did the right thing, Leni. I know it doesn't seem like it now but you just saved a lot of people."

No, it didn't seem like the right thing, it seemed and felt like murder. Like she

had just shot an innocent person who deserved to live just as she did. But now, now there was blood all over the place—concrete evidence of what she'd done to this man who was unable to even try to escape. Maybe he would've seen his errors if she'd let him live but now he never could. She took away that chance.

"I killed him!" she cried.

Terry nodded in sympathy. "I know. But you also saved other people. You did a good thing."

Good thing or not, she had done something unforgivable. For the first, but unfortunately not last, time ever, she had taken someone's life.

"Are they all going to be this way?" she croaked.

Terry quickly shook her head and answered, "No, no. Remember what I told you a long time ago? Everyone says the first time is the hardest. The next time won't be as bad."

Next time. Right. So training—playtime—really was over. Normally someone would celebrate or at least feel good or relieved to pass their final test. But this…this was just…horrible… And there would be more to come. Training might be over but this only signaled the beginning of a very harsh and violent future. It was in no way a feat worth celebrating…

"C-Can I…can I go home…? Please…take me home…" she choked out, unable to stand being near the man any longer.

And Terry, probably taking pity on her extremely obvious emotional distress, picked up the gun and didn't even bother with the corpse, blood, or barn as she led Leni back into the car and drove off toward the direction of her house. Leni was instructed to say a friend drove her home, and that she would have to come up with a reason that didn't involve a gun or dead man to tell her family why she came home early. She was also told it was best to stop crying, if possible.

But she'd never wanted to kill anybody. She only agreed to this for her family and others' protection. Even though she had her resolve, it was still hard to follow through with it. Terry had once said it wasn't an easy job and now she understood what that meant. But hopefully Terry would be right again and, since she had to fulfill a "next time" anyway, it wouldn't be as difficult.

But…was that a good thing or a bad thing? Probably a good thing since she wouldn't have to feel this all over again… What if she became numb to it though? What if, in time, she could kill someone and think nothing of it? What if she even shot an innocent person by accident? What would she do then? Would she just…not care?

Why… Why was she going through another struggle between right and wrong? She'd already overcome that years ago. Why was it coming up again? She'd already made her decision!

She sighed heavily. Morals didn't play into this. It was time to grow up and see things the way they really were. It was too late to turn back, and she had been warned many times, given many chances to withdraw. She had been told over and over, almost like they were reminding her of what they wanted her to do, that she was being trained not for the sake of self-defense, even though that was included in the training, but for the very specific reason of eliminating criminal activity that local authorities couldn't handle. Besides…if Terry was right and she had become one of their best, "if not the best", the agency would never let her go that easy. And even if she suddenly changed her mind, messing up shots wouldn't fool them into believing she was no longer capable. She had spent so much time fighting to get in, and now she was battling herself again.

Terry parked on the curb to let Leni out, handing her the Winchester and keeping the Remington. Vanzilla was gone. One or both of her parents were gone.

"Leni, wait," Terry said.

She stopped and held the car door open.

"I know this is sudden but we've already come up with a cover for you. It'll be far away from here so nobody can track your family. I'll give you the rest of the details later. For now, tell your family you've been accepted into a college in another state. We've forged an acceptance letter for you. Don't forget to add a piece about payment—say you were granted scholarships for marksmanship and a decent ACT score."

Terry opened the glove compartment and pulled out the fake acceptance letter. It looked 100% real. She also pulled out another piece of paper and gave Leni a pen. This one looked like a contract…

"This is a binding contract that, simply put, says you agree to work for the agency. If you don't sign it, you don't have to work for us, but you also won't be paid, or able to protect anyone."

She had already accepted this job mentally and trained for it physically. She was positive Terry pulled some strings to delay the contract until after training, most likely because she knew it would be hard for Leni to make her first kill, potentially even impossible, and that alone would put the agency at huge risk if she was still forced to do a job she wasn't at all fit for. Terry knew exactly what she needed and always provided accordingly.

Leni slid back into the car, took the pen, and used the dashboard to sign her name on the bottom line. Her affiliation with this agency was now cemented. But she still had some conditions of her own…

"You have to protect my family no matter what," she told Terry. "And secretly give them half of everything I make."

"Half of everything…?"

"You said I'll be paid 'large sums', so I won't have to worry about money issues of my own. They will. Half."

"I'm…not sure how we can do that in secret… That's a tall order, Leni… You'll be getting a lot of money and for half of all that to be paid to them in secret…"

She looked Terry firmly in the eye. "Half. Or your best shooter is released from her contract and can leave at will."

For a while Terry merely stared back, not challenging, not rudely…just thoughtfully. Suddenly she smiled.

"Keep that one since it already has your signature. If I take it back now it'll be easy to ignore what you want. I'll bring another one by tomorrow, when you go to the range. It'll have the stipulations you're looking for," the woman said. "I'll also be keeping your Remington for a while. You'll get it back when you leave for 'college'."

Leni returned the smile as she got out of the car, not forgetting all the papers and her dad's Winchester. She made sure to hide the signed contract in her shoe and watched Terry drive away to modify the contract so the agency couldn't turn down her demands. Good ol' Terry…always so understanding.

Until, that is, it came down to…killing. Terry seemed rather hardened to that. It was only natural, she supposed. But to Leni…it wasn't okay at all… She kept trying to distract herself with her family but she just couldn't keep that image out of her mind… That horrible, bloody image that she knew would haunt her forever. Using her family as a distraction wouldn't last long and those feelings would come back full force sooner or later. She wasn't normally one to procrastinate but hopefully said feelings would come back much, much later.

She kept her thoughts on her family for now. Terry said she would be paid for…that "test". She could use that money as one of the scholarships, depending on when she got it. And then half of that could go to her family secretly. Reflecting, it really was a tough request. Surely her parents would know they were receiving an extra pay from an unknown source. Or, perhaps the agency could pose as something else, like the higher-ups in her dad's company.

A "test"…

She shook her head and tried to push the image away as much as possible. It was by no means easy. Any red toys strewed out on the lawn, she tried to keep out of her field of vision. She focused only on the doorknob because the door was, unfortunately, red… She didn't even want to go near it. She wanted to walk away. She never wanted to see it again. But…there it was, and she had no choice if she wanted to go inside. To go inside and just curl up under the covers of her bed. To go to sleep. To wake up and see it was just a dream.

She closed her eyes and opened the door to find only Lori inside the house. Because she lived at home and because she went to college, her schedule wasn't set up like high school—she would be home for a while then go back to college. Apparently this was her break. She supposedly had a bad schedule due to being late for the final applications, so she sometimes had hours apart between classes. She took that chance to either work or relax. This time, she was working.

"Hey, Leni," she said as she scribbled something down in her notebook.

Leni tried to put on a smile but if she did, it had to be the most pathetic smile in history. "Hi, Lori."

"You're home early. Run out of ammo?"

"A-A friend drove me home. I…yyyyes, I did run out of ammo. I'm not sure where the ammo actually ran though… And I don't remember running with it…"

"I think Dad got more a few days ago. Check our closet, it should be on your side."

She cleared her throat and tried to hold back more tears as the memory of a man covered in blood started to push its way back into her mind. A lump in her throat formed in an instant with that memory. Lori was concentrated on her notebook and didn't look up at Leni to see her walk up the stairs, or see the paper in her hand as she passed by.

It hardly mattered anyway, being as she would have to show her whole family a lie… But, she supposed this was what her life would be like for a while. A lie.

She threw the Winchester and herself onto her bed and sniffled.

Even for her family, even for the protection of others, could she really keep killing? Terry said next time wouldn't be so bad but…in light of her first kill…she wasn't sure if she could do it again. Now that she'd done it in real life, the very idea of it weighed on her conscience even heavier than before. It seemed much more real even though it was only one time. Then again maybe one time was all it took to make her question its worth.

It would solve her family's money problem. It would provide protection for others. Fewer people would have to suffer… And she had a chance to fix her mistakes in the past… But was it worth taking someone's life?

Blood all over the wall shot across her mind and despite what Terry said, she began to cry again. Hard. Every time she questioned it, the final answer was the same: it was worth it. But everything changed with that single bullet and now… Now technically she was working for them already. They hadn't killed that man, she did. She did their dirty work, that was the reality of what they wanted her to do… They wanted to protect. She was merely their tool. She still had one more chance to back out but…

She sat up and took off her shoe, pulling the contract out. Sure enough, there was her signature. Her full agreement to keep killing more and more people. And void or not, this was solid proof that she had been prepared to take up a profession of…otherwise malicious deeds. This contract would be more appropriate if written in blood—and not just any blood, her first kill's blood. Undoubtedly there was enough… Hopefully they destroyed that wreck they called a barn so she would never have to see it again, or the fresh paint on the back wall… And the rope, hopefully they burned it—and the chair, too… Everything… And although it was a stretch, hopefully they would give that man a proper funeral. Maybe he did deserve death, maybe he didn't, but he did deserve a funeral.

Maybe it was wrong for her to think that way… Maybe it was wrong to be concerned about her targets… She was…

She crumpled up the contract and let it drop from her hand, hitting the floor and soaking up tears she shouldn't be shedding because… She was supposed to be stone cold now… Bloodthirsty… An emotionless killer… Someone she would probably never be… Because she was Leni.

For the first time in months she remembered Terry's words—the only words that could get her through the phases of training that required some form of hiding. Half of that, unfortunately, was staying low in shadows, sometimes in very dim lighting that just barely allowed her to control her fear.

"I'll give you a custom-made suit in time. Whenever you wear that suit, you won't be Leni. You'll be someone entirely different—someone who isn't afraid of anything, not even the dark."

And she had been given that promised suit. It was tight-fitting, completely black, and had pockets just as one would find on jeans. There was a holster for her Glock that wrapped around her thigh like spandex. That holster was perfect for an instance in which she would have to move around without a belt slapping against her as she moved. The shoes were more like small boots. They were still tight, but were made for traction. Even slippery surfaces had a hard time knocking her down. The shirt was long-sleeve but allowed easy arm movement, as though the sleeves weren't even there. In its whole, the suit was made of sturdy material and meant to blend into dark places, such as shade.

And perhaps it was psychological but she did feel a little different in it. She felt…more confident. More determined. Braver. Fearless. Stronger. Almost invincible. Like she could do anything. Her first kill had been as Leni, but now it was time for her to become someone else—the person she wanted to be. But who? Who did she really want to be? She was, by nature, very kind. Leni was hardly fit for the job but the girl she wanted to be wouldn't be weak.

No. Valuing human life wasn't weakness. The girl she wanted to become would still acknowledge what she was doing, that these were all still humans and that they were all living. The girl she wanted to be would still care, but would be strong enough to overcome it when it became an obstacle.

She wiped away her tears and tried to take her mind off the man to think about her new persona, the "other" Leni.

She suddenly remembered an old book she'd read as a child. It was about a pig and a black widow spider, a dangerous creature, but revealed her loving, compassionate side—her true colors. Her name was Charlotte. And in the book, she went so far as to die for her babies. She was exactly like Leni…except dangerous. Leni's alter ego would be dangerous. Charlotte hung in her web in a farm, in the darkness. Hiding. Leni's alter ego would be hiding as well, possibly in the darkness... And she was black, like Leni's suit…

Leni was…a human Charlotte. Ironically the girl she wanted to be was already personified as one of her worst fears, but to overcome that fear was a trait of the girl she wanted to be. She may have killed the man in the barn as Leni, but from now on, only Charlotte would kill.

She pulled out her phone and sent Terry a quick text that only said to call her 'Charlotte' during work hours—just in case someone who wasn't supposed to see it saw that text. Honestly, even within the agency, she wanted as few people as possible to know about this Charlotte business. Only those absolutely necessary were the ones she would tell. Terry was someone she found absolutely necessary, since all this was only possible through her.


End file.
